


Scavenger Hunt

by Winterstar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Depression, M/M, PTSD, Romance, Slow Build, Suicidal Ideation, real world events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to help Steve Rogers adjust to the 21st century the SHIELD psychologists decide the best thing to do is to hand him a list of ten things to find and experience. When Tony Stark happens on the list, well, things are changed and a different kind of list emerges. Tony decides that Captain No Clue needs a little help in getting to know the 21st century and Tony decides he's the best candidate to help him. </p><p>A list, a playboy/billionaire, and a man from the 40s - what could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Matters of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> This was my original attempt at the Cap-Ironman Big Bang. I decided it wasn't sufficient for a Big Bang, and bagged it. Well, my Big Bang is completed and sent it in already. So this is hanging out on my hard drive waiting for me to clean it up and publish it. It is about half done, so I will be posting probably once a week (schedule permitting). Hope you like it.

CHAPTER 1: Matters of Coffee  
Tony only finds out about the so called scavenger hunt because he happened to be bored one afternoon and spent time hacking into SHIELD’s oh so secure server. He snickers, yeah right. When he read through what the stupid ass psychologists decided would be the best course of action for the very recently thawed out Capsicle, he lifted a brow and rolled his eyes. Seriously, how much were they paying these quacks anyhow? 

Searching around his workbench for his phone he downloaded all the information to it. He would be ready for the main event and SHIELD would never know. He’d already told SHIELD they were handling the Captain all kinds of wrong ways to Sunday but they gave him that attitude. He doesn’t like that attitude; the little smirk and the condescending nod which relates all kinds of unspoken words like we know better, we are superior, how could you possibly understand the human brain and its psyche?

How? He taps his fingers on the table he’s sitting at in the closest Starbucks to SHIELD headquarters in New York City. What kind of question was that anyway? How could they possibly, even conceivably ask that question of him? He’s Tony Fucking Stark, he understands more of the human mind than most psychologists, psychiatrists, and neurologists put together. Artificial Intelligence does that ring a god damned bell? No one else in the world has actually perfected A.I. the way he has. They haven’t a clue. Of course, they throw all this mumbo-jumbo about psychological theories and how it isn’t the same, the human brain is oh so much more complicated. They don’t even have a clue as to what they are talking about – seriously how can they compare the human brain to an A.I. when they don’t even understand the A.I. in the first place?

No one listens to him, but then again they didn’t think he was a reasonable candidate for their little club or initiative or whatever they were calling it. Who exactly is right for this team of Avengers and just what the hell are they going to do all day? Fight the bad guys, yeah right. 

And he didn’t even get any thank you cards.

Since he can’t trust the directors or operatives at SHIELD to find their way out of a paper bag, he’s decided to take the bull by the horns and wrestle this thing down to the ground. Someone has to do it. If they expect the Star Spangled Man with a Plan to even understand that his plan has to be emailed and not hand written in triplicate, then they need Tony Stark to guide the poor soulful half-wit. Plus, his ideas are levels and levels above what SHIELD doctors and medical staff have planned for the Freezer Pop. 

Scavenger Hunt, idiots.

What ticks him off the most is that he should have been brought into the project earlier (or, at the very least, brought into the project). When they discovered Captain America’s frozen body, he should not have received a message for some Stark Industries cold weather equipment. It wasn’t the first time his company had been requested to assist on a non-military operation by the government or SHIELD (are they one in the same – nobody knows). He actually funds and supplies a boatload of money and equipment to the Antarctic base at McMurdo Station. In addition to that he provides the scientific instruments and insulation needed for deep space exploration to NASA. So, when the requisition came through with an explanation that SHIELD was going on a study of the Arctic Ocean based on findings from a Russian source, he didn’t really think anything of it. Who would?

Granted it, he should have because he is brilliant and these little connections shouldn’t get away from him. Arctic Ocean, studies, recovery, none of it fell into place until after he’d heard the news. Well, not heard it, found it because he’d hacked into their systems and yanked that information right out from under their noses. Because really, they have a thirteen year old doing their security or something. 

What he found still pisses him off today. They discovered Captain America’s plane and recovered his frozen body. Just by virtue of who he is, he should have been called into play- his father searched for the dumbass for years. Which is something that Tony still cannot wrap his head around, why search for a dead person?

Did his father have some inkling that Captain America could survive not only drowning but freezing as well? How the heck did he know to keep looking? Was he just looking for the body to harvest information and data from it, because that is all kinds of morbid. There’s a part of him that hopes it wasn’t that, he hopes that in fact his father knew something, something secret that he had to keep tucked away from the government for fear they might exploit it wrongly. There’s a part of Tony that still wants to redeem his father.

Tony sometimes hates that part of himself.

Maybe that is one of the reasons he currently finds himself sitting in the Starbucks waiting for his father’s obsession to waltz through the door. According to his research into the files of SHIELD today is the day Captain America starts his scavenger hunt to learn about the 21st century. The first thing on the hunt is a cup of coffee but not your routine everyday cup of coffee, the list specifically instructs the dear Captain to seek out a Starbucks and order a coffee containing the word espresso in it. 

This is the first thing SHIELD placed on the list- and it is the only part of the original list that remains completely unaltered by Tony’s tinkering, because a list that SHIELD construed to get Captain America up to speed is only asking for disaster to occur.

He feels like it is the least he can do. Something didn’t feel right when he shook Rogers’ hand that day in Central Park and watched him speed off on his motorcycle. He seemed like such a solitary figure and no one around Tony even seemed to give a rat’s ass just what Captain America planned to do with his time. Most people assumed he was going on a sightseeing trip around America which – after Tony thought about – was an inane conclusion. Why would someone who was completely and utterly a stranger in a strange land set off alone to learn about his new present? None of it seemed reasonable.

His suspicions ended up being right when he discovered Rogers is holed up in his apartment. He did this in a non-stalkery way. He happened to just find out that Rogers goes on morning runs and uses the gym down the street from where he lives. So, Rogers didn’t disappear from New York and was still in Brooklyn. This set off all kinds of alarm bells in Tony’s head. 

He went to Fury because something compelled him. Maybe it was his own sleepless nights, his need to revamp the armor until it is sentient in some way so that it can protect him and he can call out to it to save him. His behavior scared Pepper away; he can only imagine what it would do to a man with no friends at all. 

Fury frowned at him when Tony explained to him that Rogers needed more than a fly be free kind of mentality to help him adjust.

“It warms the cockles of this old spy’s heart to find out that you care so much, Stark.”

“Seriously, I am not interested in what is warming your cockles there, what I am telling you is that your Spangled Man needs something else to help him adjust. Sitting in the dark in his apartment all day or going to the gym to punch out bags do not qualify as a life,” Tony said with a scrub of his finger nails through his hair. Fury always made him feel as if he had bugs crawling through his scalp.

“Agent Romanov is working with Captain Rogers,” Fury had responded.

“Working with him, you mean profiling him?” Tony scoffed. “She doesn’t need to profile him; I can tell you what she’ll find. A loner, brooding borderline depressed, disconnect from the rest of the world.” Fury flipped through a file as Tony spoke. “Am I getting close yet?”

“You forgot suspected suicidal ideation,” Fury said as he tossed the paper file on the desk. His look had been dour, even hopeless.“Tell me why you’re here, Stark, because if you don’t have a damned plan to fix this, then you’re dead weight and not helping me at all.”

At the time, Tony hadn’t had a plan. Now his plan is all kinds of delicious, starting with coffee. He glances at his StarkPhone. Spangles should be here right about – now. 

On cue, Rogers walks into the Starbucks and squints at the change in light. It is a bright Autumn Day out and he isn’t wearing sunglasses to protect those baby blues. He doesn’t go right up to the counter, or stand in line. Instead, he scans the place as if he is on a scouting mission. It reminds Tony of someone looking for threats, someone who doesn’t trust, someone who’s sealed off from the rest of the world. 

It hits to close to the bone, as if it is a razor scraping away at his tendons and ligaments. He shoves the thought aside, and continues to study Captain America. Rogers nods to several people as they murmur _excuse me_ to step around him. There really isn’t any place to stand that is comfortable and out of the way enough for Rogers to examine the board and figure out what exactly he has to do. Tony peers through the crowd which isn’t thick because it is about mid-day. Rogers has a crumpled piece of paper in his hand and he studies it, and then glares at the board. He is glaring, because his facial expression reminds Tony of when he was in the middle of the fight with the Chitauri. Finally, he steps into line and stands there waiting his turn at the counter. He listens to the other customers as they order and that furrow between his brows only gets deeper, more concentrated. 

The barista behind the counter calls for him and the puzzled expression becomes a little more terrified, a little more baffled, but at the same time calm and quiet. Tony has no idea how he pulls it off. Taking pity on the man out of time, Tony pushes through a gaggle of college gals with a flirty wave and wink and then turns his attention to the Captain.

He smacks Rogers in the chest with the back of his hand and leans over the counter, all smiles at the young woman there. She has a nose ring and purple streaks through her hair. For a moment, Tony wonders if the Captain was distracted from ordering just by the look of the service, but he dismisses that and says, “We’ll have one of everything.”

“What?” The girl looks as confused as the Captain. Tony snaps the list out of the Captain’s hands and says, “Look, see this, give us one of everything listed here. Then I want you to bring them all to the table in the corner.” He lets her look at the list and then slides a hundred dollar bill on the counter. “For the tip.”

She smiles. “Sure thing.”

“Mister Stark,” Rogers starts.

“Ah, no with the Mister Stark, you’re older than me by decades,” Tony says. 

“I think I’m supposed to do that myself,” Rogers says and avoids using Tony’s name. He’s as uncomfortable with the familiar as Tony is with him. 

Tony tosses another few bills on the counter to pay the tab and then shuffles Rogers, who is looking over his shoulder at the wad of money, to the table. Without hesitation, Tony places on hand on Rogers’ shoulder and gently pushes him into the seat. Rogers opens his mouth once as if to say something but then shuts it, as if he’s strategizing that this might be the best deal to get him out of this situation.

Tony raises an eyebrow and smirks. He slides into the booth across from the chair Rogers is in. “Long time no see.”

“How’ve you been, Mist- how have you been?” Rogers says and does just about everything to not look at Tony.

“Oh you know, same old same old. Being Iron Man, inventing, continuing with the genius stuff, and just about everything else.”

“Oh yeah,” Rogers says and quirks a smile. “I remember, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

“Oh yes, that’s about as good a descriptor as any.” Tony knocks the table a few times and point at his once idol. “So, how about you? Getting out, getting to buy coffee.”

Rogers curves a smile but it is a little lost. “Kind of, they want me to do some, you know exercises to better adjust.” 

Tony looks him up and down and says, “Seems like you exercise enough.”

Rogers shrugs and says, “Doctors didn’t like my daily routine. Don’t know how they figured it out, but probably watching me.”

Tony feels a tad bit badly about that but keeps his mouth shut and is saved when the barista brings the tray over to their table. 

“I hope you like the combinations I threw together.” She slides a note to him with a description of each coffee. “Here you go.”

Rogers frowns at the array of cups on the table. “I didn’t realize coffee came in so many different varieties.”

“Yes,” Tony says and launches into Rogers’ education. If he is going to do this, he has to do it the right way. “So, let’s see what you know.”

“That’s coffee.” Rogers picks out the black coffee without anything in it, and kind of cast off to the side.

“Good, let’s start with this one,” Tony picks up a different paper cup and sets it in front of Rogers. “Taste it.”

He only hesitates a moment before he picks up the cup and sips. “That reminds me of something I had in Italy during the war.”

“It should, it’s cappuccino.” Rogers’s eyes stay blank. “Okay, let me explain this to you, Lucy.” And it hurts in all kinds of ways that Rogers doesn’t even get a reference to Lucille Ball. “Cappuccino and espresso machines really didn’t get big in Europe until after the 1950s but there was something similar in Italy around the time you were there.”

“Expresso?”

“Espresso, no x.” Tony says and continues, “It is very darkly roasted, ground very fine, and very hot water is forced through it to make a very rich, concentrated coffee. If served just like that, you see it in those little cups. Most folks drink it black or with sugar. Espresso can also be the basis for coffee drinks, including lattes and cappuccinos. A latte involves one or two shots of espresso plus steamed milk; the milk, when steamed, forms a lot of froth. Latte has more steamed milk in proportion to a cappuccino. A cappuccino has steamed milk and foam added to the coffee, but it's more like equal parts of all three or even more heavy on the foam.”

“Oh,” Rogers says as Tony hands him one of the lattes. 

“Lattes and coffees get fancied up like they are going out to have sex or something with different flavors as well with different kinds of syrups like chocolate for instance.”

Rogers eyes the simple black coffee but doesn’t touch it as Tony continues, “Taste.” He hands over the café mocha. “Good?”

“Tastes like a dessert.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Tony replies. “Some people love coffee so much that having it as dessert is good enough to top off a great meal.”

Tony points to the remaining cups. “At Starbucks, there are some things that are specific to them, like Frappuccinos, which are sweetened iced coffees with milk that are whizzed up in a blender with ice, like a milkshake. And oh yeah, Starbucks does serve regular coffee that they make each day - there are usually three coffees of the day -a dark, medium and light or blonde roast- and the iced coffee is made from that rather than espresso. Get it.”

“Can I have the dark regular?” Rogers inches his hand to the side cup.

Tony thinks maybe he should dissuade him but what is the point, the poor guy just wants a cup of coffee. “Go for it.”

Rogers takes a deep drink and, as he does, closes his eyes as if he’s dreaming of some place else. When he sets the cup down and eases back in the seat, he says, “Thanks, Tony, that was – it was good of you to give me a hand.”

Knowing full well what is on the list, Tony still asks, “Well, what else do the doctors have set for you to do in order,” he air quotes it. “Get adjusted.”

He pulls out his smart phone, plays around with it a bit, but eventually does get to the list. He slides the phone over to Tony. “Ten things. Supposed to bring me up to speed on modern day culture and events.”

“I thought you were on your way around the country, Rogers.”

“Steve.”

“Okay.”

“I thought about it, but it takes a lot more than just deciding to go to actually ride around the country. There’s so much I don’t – I can’t-.” Rogers – no, he should call him Steve in his head if he’s going to do this – looks away and then at his hands folded in his lap. “I know how to be a soldier; I know how to be a man in the 40s, but not in the 21st century.”

“There’s no difference, you know,” Tony says. “A good man in the 40s is the same as a good man in the 21st century.”

“That’s poetic and, somehow, completely not like you.” A small smile creeps on Steve’s lips.

“I think I’ve been hanging out with Bruce too much,” Tony says. He knocks the table once and then point to Steve. “Speaking of which, you want to blow this popsicle stand and go back to the Tower. Bruce might have appeared out of his lab and we can plan our attack.”

“I thought the plan was to attack,” Steve response.

“Maybe, maybe, come on, let’s go,” Tony urges.

For a moment Steve considers him and Tony feels slighted but Steve nods and stands up with Tony to leave the coffee shop. As they exit the establishment, Steve looks back at it and shrugs his shoulders. “It is just coffee in the end.”

“That it is, my friend, that it is.” Tony guides him to his car and they take off before Steve can further protest. If Tony has any chance of implementing his plans he has to do it quickly before the world’s best tactician and strategist figures him out. Get in and strike.


	2. The Reasons Why (Not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that I will post each new Chapter on Sunday - that is why you get two this weekend. I figured it would be a safe bet that I will be free enough from RL duties and probably any medical issues (FX). This is a very slow build, hope you still like it.

CHAPTER 2 The Reasons Why (Not)  
Bringing Capsicle to the Tower is easier and harder than Tony thought it would be. He drives through the streets and curses that Pepper took Happy with her all the way to California so that he could be head of security at Stark Industries. Great for Happy, crappy for Tony. Traffic in Manhattan is never a joy and it takes a sum total of 45 minutes to get from the Starbuck’s to his Tower. He thinks he could have walked here faster. 

The ride is anything but comfortable. He’s nervous like a freaking blushing bride on her wedding day – and how many would really be blushing in this day and age? When he thinks this, he turns to look at Steve and considers that point. Who the hell knows about Rogers’ experience in that department? Maybe he should have added hire a prostitute to the list. It occurs to him he might want to bring Natasha in on his little project, though she probably had a hand in constructing the original (more than boring) list. He could probably convince her to shift sides on this one; he’s fairly certain she likes the Captain and that she’d be sympathetic to his situation.

“So, Natasha?” 

“Natasha? Yes?” Steve says and Tony notes he sitting like he might get in trouble if he touches anything in the car. 

“Working with her at SHIELD?”

“A little,” Steve says. “They said once I’m more acclimated they’ll be more willing to bring me in on missions.”

“And that’s what you want?” Tony asks because really does the guy even have an idea of what is out there for him to choose from at all. 

Steve studies him before answer. “I’m not sure. I might. I haven’t considered it.”

“Have you considered not working for them?” Tony says as he finally drives up to the Tower and enters the underground parking garage. 

“I really hadn’t thought about it,” Steve says with another shrug of his shoulders. “They unfroze me and a couple of weeks later I was fighting an army from a different world. I’m just trying to keep on my feet, don’t have my sea legs just yet.”

“Thought that was a Navy saying,” Tony says and he finds his parking spot and shifts the Audi into park. 

Steve presses his lips together with a look that obviously shows he’s amused. Somehow this makes Tony believe what he’s about to do – or really what he is in the middle of doing – is the right thing. “What exactly are we doing, Tony?”

“We’re going to plan how we’re going to get through your list so that SHIELD and the one eyed wonder will stop bothering you with their less than brilliant plans,” Tony says as he hops out of the car and slams the door. 

Steve follows along, scanning the area. As they walk to the elevator, Tony gets the distinct impression Steve hasn’t bought into anything and is more placating him than anything. He wonders why but figures it must have something to do with the fact Steve does nothing interesting most days – as far as he can tell. 

He waves Steve over to the elevators and says, “JARVIS, penthouse.”

“Elevator four, sir.”

When Steve doesn’t jump at the sound of JARVIS, Tony turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Been in your Tower before, Tony. We all came here to collect Loki.”

Damn, Tony thinks, but slaps the good Captain in the arm. “On to the penthouse, JARVIS. And can you tell me what Bruce is up to?”

“He is currently in the penthouse kitchen cooking a curry dish, sir.”

“Curry,” he says with a nod and winks at Steve. 

“Curry,” Steve parrots but how he puts a little lilt to the end of the word it is clear he has no idea what it is.

“They had curry back in the day,” Tony says and frowns. “Seriously, tell me you heard of curry before.”

“Does it have anything to do with shawarma?” Steve says as the elevator brings to move.

“No, that’s an Arabic food, not Indian.”

Steve nods a few times and says, “More like a meat and potatoes kind of guy myself.”

“Black coffee, steak, potatoes,” Tony replies. “You’re every woman’s dream guy aren’t you? No fuss no muss.”

“I just have simple tastes, Tony, that’s all,” 

“You liked the shawarma, didn’t you?”

The elevator doors open and JARVIS greets Tony as they step out into the penthouse. Steve answers in a mumbled voice. He hadn’t truly seen the Tower remodeled yet. The renovations are still underway and he hopes to have the other floors completed in the next month or so. That should give him time enough for his little project with Steve.

“Don’t remember-.” Steve turns around and looks the place over. “This is really nice. You fixed it up.”

“Well, it really isn’t a great idea to leave a gaping hole in the windows or in the floors after a battle.” Tony crosses the main living room toward the kitchen. “Safety first, as they say.”

Steve mutters agreement as they enter into the kitchen. His brother in all things science stands at the stovetop cooking something that looks and smells delicious. He has a variety of spices lined up on the counter and a chopping block with various ingredients. Steve peers at it all but doesn’t comment. Bruce looks up from his pan and smiles that curve of the lips that just says self-deprecating intelligent angry slash calm man.

“Steve.”

“Doctor Banner,” Steve says and Tony notes he has his hands buried deep in the pockets of his bomber jacket. 

“Bruce, Steve, I think we can forego the formalities especially with Tony’s plans.”

“Tony’s plans?” Steve says and tilts his head to look at him. Bruce does a double take on him and then shakes his head to go back to cooking. “I’d still like to know-.”

Tony grabs Steve’s elbow and ushers him to the sitting area in the living room. “Take a load off, Cap. JARVIS cue up a movie. Something current and educational?”

Steve points to the kitchen but Tony does a two handed wave at him as if it will magically make him forget what Bruce just said and then escapes into the kitchen. He pokes Bruce in the side with one of the forks lying on the counter.

“What the hell?”

“What’s that?” Bruce keeps cooking and never looks up.

“Way to blow my cover, I thought we were in this together,” Tony says. 

Bruce does that little shiver of his shoulders which clearly indicates to Tony that he’s succeeding in ruffling his feathers but not enough to color him green. “I never bought into this. I think it’s kind of cruel to lead him around by the nose.”

“Really? Really?” Tony yanks out his phone and calls up the original list. “Look at this dumbass list. It means nothing. It will get him nowhere. So what, now he knows how to order coffee in the modern world. But guess what?”

Bruce waits.

“He is still going to order regular black coffee; it doesn’t help him to just shove the hipster scene in his face and show him how much he doesn’t know,” Tony says.

Bruce adjusts the burner to a low flame and then turns around, folds his arms, and considers Tony. “Why is this so important to you?”

He can’t answer that, because he won’t, because answering that bring up a shitload of other issues that Tony is not ready to handle yet and refuses to dignify with acknowledging that they even exist at this point. So he dodges. “I’m renovating the Tower.”

“And what, you want him for the heavy lifting?” 

“No, but that’s always an alternative,” Tony says and steals a few cut up carrots. “No, I want him and the whole team to move into the Tower. That’s the plan; I want the Avengers to be out from under the thumb of SHIELD, and more importantly the WSC. Fury isn’t going to be able to hold them at bay, not long enough. Shit, he couldn’t hold them off long enough to stop them from scrambling a fighter to nuke New York. The Avengers has to be a separate Initiative.”

“It does?”

“For the sake of world peace,” Tony says as he crunches down on the carrots.

“While I don’t think that’s your complete motivation for this little charade, I’ll accept it for now.” Bruce turns back to his task at hand – lunch. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, the first thing I want to do is get the guy to grieve,” Tony says and pops the last of the carrots into his mouth. Bruce looks at him as if he’s grown two more heads. “What? I can be sensitive, too.”

“Pepper put you up to that,” Bruce replies and with a look that dares Tony to challenge him.

“Okay, we might have talked about it, a little.” Tony shows Bruce the display on his phone. “I thought I’d start with Arlington and then go from there.”

“You think that’s wise?” Bruce says with low quiet voice. 

“Arlington, yes. I don’t know about the other one,” Tony says. “I want you to come along.”

“Ah, no,” Bruce says with shake of his head. “No, if I hulk out in Arlington or there, no. I just. No.”

Tony knows he’s right, so he just leaves it. “I think bringing him to these places will help him understand some of the other events.”

“Maybe, we’ll see.” Bruce starts to dish out the lunch. “Call him in?”

“Sure thing.”

INTERLUDE 1  
 __  
To: Director Fury  
From: Steve Rogers  
Subject: List

_Sir,  
I have completed the first item on your list. I went to Starbucks as directed and ordered several different types of coffees. The following information was gathered:_

_Espresso (no x) is very darkly roasted bean, and ground very fine, and then very hot water is forced through it to make a very rich, concentrated coffee. Most folks drink it black or with sugar. Espresso can also be the basis for coffee drinks, including lattes and cappuccinos. I think I may have had something similar to this while I was in Europe, but I really can’t tell because everything tastes different now._

_From what I can gather, a latte involves one or two "shots" of espresso plus steamed milk; the milk, when steamed, forms a lot of froth. Latte has more steamed milk in proportion to a cappuccino. A cappuccino has steamed milk and foam added to the coffee, but it's more like equal parts of all three or even more heavy on the foam._

_A macchiato is espresso topped with just a dollop of the milk foam, though Starbucks serves them and they're more like a latte with flavored syrups. Speaking of, any of the above, save the espresso, can be flavored by syrups or other things. For example, a latte with chocolate syrup or cocoa powder is a café mocha._

_At Starbucks, there are some things that are specific to them, like Frappuccinos, which are sweetened iced coffees with milk that are whizzed up in a blender with ice, like a milkshake.  
And oh yeah, Starbucks does serve regular coffee that they make each day - there are usually three coffees of the day (a dark, medium and light or blonde roast), and the iced coffee is made from that rather than espresso._

_I hope this is sufficient to cross this item off of my list._

_Very Respectfully,  
Capt Steve Rogers_

_PS I still like black coffee the best._

Message forwarded to Agent Phil Coulson with one line added from Director Fury.

__  
To: Phil Coulson  
From: Nick Fury  
Subject: FW: List 

_Why the hell is this in my inbox?_

Agent Coulson chooses not to respond.


	3. Burnt Gunpowder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this chapter a few hours early....hope you enjoy it!

CHAPTER 3 Burnt Gunpowder

Steve's hands are tucked deep in his leather bomber jacket as he stares up at the lunar module. Tony watches and sees he doesn't blink for several minutes, and it is almost like watching that proverbial deer in headlights. His mouth slightly parts and Tony notices just a line of saliva on his lower lip, giving it a glossy almost glistening look as Steve gazes upon the structure in front of him. There are crowds all around, people jostling and moving about the displays. Yet, Steve remains still, non-moving, almost statue like. His wide blue eyes shift but he stays as if he is still frozen in that ice. He moves his lips like he might query something, but then no sound comes out. 

Surely he understands that this is nothing compared to the Chitauri attack only weeks ago. Surely, he gets that the mess that is New York was caused by aliens from outer space. Tony isn't quite sure how the site of a model of the lunar module could be all that inspiring after battling with invaders from a distant realm. Steve starts to move, drifting to the side of the module, staring up at the insect-like shape and its fragile antenna pointed upward to the ceiling of the Smithsonian museum. For some reason, this huge man looks small next to the frail looking lunar module, for some reason, to Tony, he can very nearly see the pre-serum Steve standing before him awed and struck by the enormity of what's happened in the world while he slept. He wanders over to the stairs which lead to the command module, with the cockpit of the flimsy set up. Sometimes when Tony thinks on it, he considers whether or not all of NASA was completely bonkers to throw men up at the moon in such technological under developed equipment and vehicles. He shivers, just the thought of it is horrifying in so many ways.

Steve peers into the glass so that he can see the mannequins in the module. His face screws up and he furrows his brows until that little indent appears. Tony isn't sure if he should approach Steve or not, there's something closed off, almost askew as moves around the collection of articles and memorabilia from the first moon landing. Steve walks down the metal stairs from the pod, and Tony notices his white knuckles as he clutches onto the rail. He doesn't mention it, but ushers Steve along the fairway of the museum where all kinds of flight vehicles are hanging from the ceiling. 

Steve swallows twice, and it reminds Tony of someone who just disembarked from a rollercoaster and is trying hard to head off puking his guts out. He raises an eyebrow but, again, keeps his mouth closed. He points to the display. "We definitely want to go over there and look at the moon rocks."

"Moon rocks," Steve parrots. He pulls out a small notepad from his pocket and a stubby pencil. Scribbling, he nods to Tony as he walks. Tony tries to bounce up on his tip toes to get a look at what Steve is writing but he shifts his arm to block Tony's view. "Just have to make notes of what I saw so I can report back on my list. Stop being so nosy."

"Me nosy?" Tony tries to pull off casual and innocence, but Tony’s not exactly sure when the last time he was innocent of something. He chuckles under his breath but Steve notices it. 

"Yes, you're a busy body." 

If anything, the little exchange seems to have re-center Steve and he's more attuned to the museum and the vast hall of different flying machines overhead. He does look like a kid in a candy store, in a way. Tony grabs his jacket and hauls him over to the moon rocks and the articles and displays on Apollo 11. "Look and be amazed."

Tony guides Steve to the panels with the information on the launch while at the same time taking out his phone. There are several messages from Pepper. He supposes he should have told her they were hopping over to D.C. today to check out the moon landing amongst other things. He checks his watch. They still have time to run over to Arlington. He should send Pep a note about their travel plans though. New York City is not the only show in town when it comes to learning about the 21st century. And boy does he have plans.

He looks up to see Steve pressing a button to learn more about the Apollo missions and he turns back to the phone, scrolling through the email. Bruce seems to be unhappy about something or another, but not enough to cause mass destruction of the laboratory or so it seems anyway. He whips out a note to Barton to tell the egg head to go over and check on Bruce but not to touch his stuff. He deletes it five seconds after he writes it and then sends a note to JARVIS to keep him updated. JARVIS immediately reports that all is well. 

He considers the screen and is about to tap something else out when Steve says, "Can we get out of here?"

Startled by the question he grimaces and looks up to study the all American hero. "What?"

Steve is looking everywhere but at Tony when he says, "Can we get out of here? I'd like to leave."

"But we just, we just got here about an hour ago. There's the whole museum to look at. You haven't even seen the display about you."

"What? Me? I don't want to see a display about me," Steve says and practically knocks Tony over in a rush to leave the moon rock area. 

"It has your original uniform, you know, the one you rocked in. Not as tight and shapely but definitely macho like. It is degraded a little bit due to all the-." 

He stops because Steve halts and stares at him. The look of deer in headlights is completely an understatement. "When I was in the ice, the cloth didn't hold up."

"Yeah, hm, sure, right," Tony says and tries to figure out exactly what the problem is, but he cannot fish it out at all. "So, you want to leave? You don't want to try astronaut ice cream or anything because I'm pretty sure they have it in the gift shop or the cafeteria, I can never remember."

Steve just shakes his head. "No, no, I just. I'd like to leave."

Tony nods and leads the way, noting how Steve keeps his head down and eyes to the tiled floor as if a winter storm batters him. Yeah, Fury, let this guy out with a fucking list and tell him to go and find coffee and the nearest department store that'll help in all kinds of wrong ways, Tony thinks. 

Tony keeps talking because Steve's body language radiates nerves. "You know when the astronauts went back into the command module after traipsing around in the muck of moon dust, they couldn't get it off. The particulate was kind of sticky and smelled like burnt gunpowder."

"Really," Steve mumbles.

"There's a theory that the moon dust actually underwent oxidation or kind of a burning in the oxygenated atmosphere of the module." Tony races after Steve who has picked up the pace and heads for the wide expanse of doors. He hits the doors at a full out run and then stops dead on the stairs to the museum.

Lifting his head to the sun, Steve closes his eyes and settles. Tony watches him, concerned but not ready to confront what the hell just happened. "You want to get a drink or something to eat?" he asks instead.

Steve just makes a sound low in his throat. They end up walking off the mall to one of the street vending carts. Tony complains about how the vendors always piss in cups and don't wash their hands but Steve inhales three hot dogs before Tony's finished paying. He gulps down a water and smiles. 

"What's next?" Steve says.

"You sure you're up to this?" Tony isn't sure; Tony knows that something is up with Steve, but one thing at a time. 

"Sure," Steve says with a shrug. "I fought aliens from outer space what's the big deal about a moon landing, right?" His words are tense, as if he's saying them through clenched teeth. 

Tony checks his phone for the schedule he's interested in and escorts Steve back to the Washington Mall and to the Metro. Steve's at ease on the metro though it is more modern than some lines of the New York City subway. He seems to more easily accept it than other changes in the 21st century. Tony notices how Steve spends a lot of time people watching, observing. He doesn't take out the little notebook, but that might be because this isn't on his list of things to see. He just watches.

"You remember stuff?" Tony asks.

"Eidetic memory," Steve replies.

"Before?"

"No, happened after the serum," Steve says and continues to scan the area and Tony recognizes how he's also checking for threat level and risks. Tony wonders if the guy has ever come down from the war, considering he was thrown from World War II to an invasion of Earth within just weeks, of course he's still thinking like a soldier, like a leader. 

"Huh," Tony says as he recalls when Steve asked him about Coulson and if this was the first soldier he'd lost. It makes a bit more sense now.

They sit on the metro car and Steve gets a dark look on his face, like he's been through this before. "Where are we going?"

"Arlington, I thought you might want to see it," Tony says. It is on the list - the one Tony substituted.

"Okay," Steve says and looks out the window to the passing darkness of the tunnel. Tony reaches out but stops himself. He thinks about it, how a hand to Steve's arm or shoulder might help ground him, might bring him some anchor in world he's obviously sinking under the weight of the ocean. But he has to reason to do so, hell just weeks ago they were at each other's throats.

As if he reads Tony's mind, Steve turns and says, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Tony counters.

"Going through my list with me, helping me out?" Steve pulls out the list- this one on paper- and it's already worn as if he's played with the paper time and again, checking it. 

"Call me a concerned citizen."

"Concerned about what?"

"Our stop," Tony says and tugs Steve to his feet to follow him. This does not deter the ninety plus year old.

"What are you concerned about?"

"SHIELD's interest and you are one of SHIELD's interests."

"So, we go on this little scavenger hunt because you have it out for Fury and SHIELD?"

"I have it out for SHIELD, not particularly for Fury but he could easily join that list." Tony herds Steve up the long escalator. "SHIELD has their claws in you, Captain. And I don't know how well you were processing during the whole icky aliens and crazy Loki wanting to take over the world, but the truth of the matter is SHIELD cannot be trusted. They want to keep you to themselves, for no logical reason."

"There's a reason," Steve says and follows Tony to the entrance of the cemetery. "They found me and since they are the offspring of the SSR, they kind of - like - own me."

Tony stumbles to a stop and Steve nearly pitches into him but is able to halt before toppling Tony. "What? I don't know if you noticed but this is the 21st century. Even when you were around before the great ice age of your life, there wasn't any such thing as slavery or indentured servitude."

"That's not what-. I didn't mean that. But I owe them, Tony." Steve says as he steps around Tony and continues forward. "I owe a lot of people."

"For what?"

Steve stops and glares at him. "For the obvious, for saving me when I would probably have been dead."

"You wouldn't have even gotten into the Army if it hadn't been for the project."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I was a sick guy. All. The. Time. Heart issues, lung issues. I heard my dad talking once to my mom, telling my mom not to get used to me because I was gonna die anyway. I was just a sickly kid, you know. They saved me and look how I repaid them."

"You saved them," Tony says.

"Not all of them," Steve replies and moves toward the entrance. 

For the next fifty minutes they remain silent, but Arlington will do that with its eternal flame on Kennedy's gravesite and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers. Once they get to the Tomb, Steve sits and watches the Guard. He doesn't take his eyes off of him; just carefully follows his precise, perfect movements. The guard makes twenty one steps to cross the distance, then turns and faces east. He notices that Steve counts and then this draws him back to the soldier who has moved to face north. Once that is completed the Guard moves across the black mat again with twenty one steps. The relief commander appears in the plaza and asks the small gathering of people to stand and stay silent. When the changing of the guard happens and the small benches of the Amphitheater are sparsely filled with people, Steve remains rigid as the inspection of the rifle and the exchange occurs. After it finishes, and Steve slips down the steps to the open cemetery again, Tony follows. 

The silence is almost too much to bear until Steve asks, "What about the soldiers you did know, what about the ones whose bodies are lost?"

Tony keeps his voice low, because even he knows when there is something sacred and painful to be broached. "Maybe, maybe the Tomb symbolizes them as well. It does, doesn't it? All the lost souls that gave up something important, their lives for this country, for freedom?" He shivers thinking of the cold of space.

"Yeah," Steve says and nods. He inhales and when he does he sniffles a bit as well. "Maybe, maybe that's how it works."

"You want to see the veterans of World War Two?" Tony asks quietly.

"Yeah, I'd like that," Steve whispers. Once again, they drop into a silence but it isn’t a distant silence but more like a companionable one. In Tony’s head, at least they’ve made some progress away from the moments under Loki’s glow stick of destiny to tolerating one another. It isn’t like everything has been awkward but he hasn’t felt as if he’s scratched or even dented the surface of the good Captain. Steve is under there, Tony knows this. It is more important than he wants to admit to himself that he dig beneath the shiny exterior. If his plans are going to work, Steve is integral. 

In retrospect, which is only minutes after it happens, Tony should have expected this section of the cemetery, but he’s never been one to be obsessed with the little factoids of life if it doesn’t have something to do with the larger picture of how the universe fits together and works. Or how to get laid in three easy steps, but that’s another story. What he doesn’t predict and what he should have known from the paper map he’s holding clutched in his one hand, rolled into a tube, is that they would stumble upon section MK.

Section MK is different from all of the other hillsides and memorials throughout the cemetery. It is row upon row of markers for the dead and honored who are not there. It is row upon row of markers for the lost souls whose bodies were never recovered. Steve halts before he even ventures toward it, before he even thinks to ask where he might find the elusive marker – if there is even one here for his friend, for Bucky. 

The question is on his lips as he turns to Tony, “How do I find?”

Tony raises a finger and has his phone out. He taps in a question to JARVIS. “Find James Buchanan Barnes, Arlington National Cemetery.”

It takes only a matter of seconds before JARVIS responds with the exact location of the marker for Bucky. Tony guides Steve to the marker. It is the same as all the rest. It is simple and states his name with dates. It is indistinct but, for all its plainness it changes the world. Tony backs away when Steve falls to his knees in front of the small marker. He stands to the side as Steve bows his head and clamps his hands into fists. He has no idea if the Captain prays, if he’s a god fearing man, or if he’s just breaking into pieces. 

Tony watches Steve. Bucky’s marker is under a large tree with branches stretching over the hillside. The sunlight dapples the grass, shifting and moving over it. Steve notices nothing, only stares at the marker as if it holds a secret, as if he might transcend time and space to commune with his lost friend. It occurs to Tony that in Steve’s head this loss of his friend happened less than a year ago. Crap, if he does the math, it happened less than three months ago. Couple that with handling life in a new century, the fact that not only is his best friend gone, but also all of Steve’s friends have followed Bucky to the grave, and, by the way, he’s needed to pull himself together and fight aliens. 

“Christ,” Tony whispers. He’s not sure how the Captain handles it at all. He guesses the real question is; is it true, is the Captain holding it together? 

Steve unfolds his hands and reaches out with one, his left as if he’s trying to grasp something, or someone. It is a slight movement, a subtle one, but it makes all the difference when he pulls his hand back as if it has been burned by hot flames. He stares at his empty palm, at his curled fingers, and something in Tony clogs his throat and forces him to look away from the obvious pain. He doesn’t like to deal with emotions, especially not someone else’s, especially not his own. He swallows, or tries to, and upon looking back, notes that Steve has climbed to his feet and has his hands folded together with his head bowed. He looks like he might be praying now, offering up a few blessings for his lost friend.

Without further delay, Steve nods once and then turns and markers the distance to Tony. He studies Steve, the ache of loss clearly etched in his face. He doesn’t say anything, what is there to say?

Steve doesn’t meet his gaze but stares out over the hills and embankments. Farther in the distance is the Washington Mall and all of her monuments to long ago honored dead. In a whisper, Steve says, “I think I’d like to go, now. I’d like to go home.”

His voice cracks fractionally at the last word, but Tony nicely ignores the show of weakness. “Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee while JARVIS gets the pilot ready and we can go back to New York.”

Steve agrees silently. Tony knows going back to New York isn’t what Steve wants or needs, but it is the only thing he has to offer. Steve is polite enough not to mention it.

INTERLUDE II  
 __  
To: Director Fury  
From: Steve Rogers  
Subject: List- The Moon Landing

_Director Fury,  
I was amazed to see the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C. To think there is an entire museum dedicated to flight and to space is like walking through one of Howard Stark’s future expos in New York City in the 40s. He would have loved to see the museum, I would think. I wonder if he did, before he died. Do you know? _

_One of the main things I looked at was the moon landing. I saw the landing module and the command module. It struck me how frail the vehicles looked. When I see all the technology today – how sleek in designed it is – then compare it to what was used in the 1960s and 70s, I cannot even express my complete astonishment at the difference. I cannot imagine the bravery and courage of the men who partook in the space program in those days. I wonder why the United States abandoned such a noble pursuit. Is it because it does not have a tangible profit? Or because the Soviet Union collapsed? Why abandon such a leap forward? It seems like this great country of mine – well, it seems like it might have gone to sleep on some of its biggest dreams. When I was a kid, we dreamed of living on the moon, and driving flying cars. I don’t see any of that and I wonder what the kids today dream of? What do they have left when all they are told is that it’s too expensive, it isn’t profitable, it’s not practical? What happened to dreams?_

_What struck me the most though was that we had this technology once and now we just don’t. We can do so many, many things today, but can we get back to the moon? There are aliens out there; waiting at our doorstep and our answer was bigger guns. I think there’s something wrong with this thinking. I believe the world needs something different to unite it, and to allow it to dream._

_Very Respectfully,  
Capt Steve Rogers_

_PS I also went to Arlington National Cemetery – so that is crossed off my list._

__  
To: Phil Coulson  
From: Nick Fury  
Subject: FW: List- The Moon Landing 

_Coulson,  
I know you are still recuperating, but what the hell is going on? Who let Rogers travel to DC? Who the hell’s fucking list is this? The Smithsonian and Arlington? Arlington? We don’t need the guy to have a major meltdown in a public place, we don’t even know if he’s adjusted well or not. Figure this out, Agent. Now._

_-Fury  
Oh and what the hell is going on with the intel on the Winter Soldier? _


	4. The Mouse that Roared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could go wrong with a trip to Disney World?

Although Tony wants to continue his quest, he cannot. He needs to show up in New York for a meeting and sign some papers for Pepper. He decides to drop off Steve at his drab apartment and book it back to the Tower. When he watches Steve leave the car and approach the building, it occurs to him how out of sync and alone Steve looks. He exudes this presence of strength and bravery when he’s in the uniform, but when he’s walking around in his civvies he’s an ordinary jo with a look on his face that is somewhere between bewilderment and pain. 

Tony speeds off and has JARVIS re-order his calendar to clear up some room on it. He doesn’t intend to leave the good Captain for long.

“May I inquire, sir, why this task is so important,” JARVIS says as Tony navigates through the thick congestion on the bridge.

“You may, you may,” Tony says but does not elaborate. At this point, he’s barely confessing his intentions and goals to himself. A viciously sarcastic AI doesn’t have a chance in hell. 

“As you please, sir. Your calendar has been cleared for the next three days. I must remind you that Ms. Potts does insist that you show up for the meeting today and that I inform her of any and all changes to your calendar.”

“Benedict Arnold,” Tony comments.

“A true Tory and good native son, sir,” JARVIS replies.

“Native son? Ha!” 

Tony maneuvers the Audi toward the Stark Industries Wall Street offices. He has a meeting in fifteen minutes and expects that Pepper will have an appropriate suit jacket and tie for him to wear. He’s correct (of course) and the meeting with the Wall Street gurus is as boring as he predicted (of course). He spends half of his time trying to explain the future of communications technology and the other half outlining his agenda for Steve on his phone while not listening to anyone on the board. Pepper is not pleased.

Once the meeting finishes, Pepper steers him toward her office and closes the door. She leans with her back against the door and studies him. “Tell me what’s going on Tony.”

He offers her his best look of surprise and innocence. He knows it doesn’t work well because he always has a look of devilry on him. “What?”

“You’re up to something, I can tell.”

“I’m learning to relax,” Tony says and shrugs his shoulders.

“I could ask JARVIS,” Pepper says.

“You could and he’d tell you I am just taking an interest in my new team members,” Tony says. A little bit of honest usually can be spread thinly and no one is the wiser. 

“Your new team members?” She pushes off the closed door and crosses the room. “You mean the Avengers. I thought they all dispersed, except for Bruce.”

He has his phone in his hand and he taps on it as he says, “They did, they did. Thor, big guy, huge muscles still floating out there in the cosmos with his wacked out brother I would assume. Spy One and Spy Two are probably still with the Cat Fury causing all kinds of chaos while someone’s mother is out.”

“Steve, you’re tormenting Steve,” Peppers says and shakes her head. “Please tell me that the poor man is not your newest project.”

“He’s not a project, more like a mission,” Tony replies and smiles. He leans close to her and gives her a quick peck on the cheek. “Trust me, Pep, it’s for his own good.”

“Just be kind,” Pepper says and looks at him with those large girl next door eyes. “He’s not a toy.”

He lifts a hand and brushes back her hair that’s come loose from her ponytail. “You taught me a lot of things, Pep, and one of them is to take care of other people’s feelings, too.”

“Good,” she whispers, but then coughs and moves away. Nodding, she allows him his leave. “Good, Tony, I’ll see you in a few days. We have a meeting in California with the board.”

He steps away and knows that her dismissal is as much for his own good as it is for hers. They’ve separated and the trial to become friends again is one marked with potholes and thorny patches. 

*oOo*  
Tony shows up at Steve's apartment door at noon on a Wednesday carrying a cactus plant, because that's what you do when you welcome some to the neighborhood, and while this isn't Tony's neighbor he feels like the guy might need something normal in his life. He's not sure cacti are really normal, but he wasn't going to show up with a dozen red roses. That would be weird. Or not.

Noon on a Wednesday would be dicey to find someone home, but Tony knows Steve is home. It's easy enough to hack into the city's monitoring system, and he's had JARVIS watch the apartment building's door and back alley way for the last day and a half. Seems the good Captain is holed up in there like a rabbit in his burrow. He knocks and waits. He hears a shuffling and then several locks opening, and the door swings to reveal Steve.

He's in low slung sleeping pants and a t-shirt that must be one size to small; it actually looks like wearing it hurts - must cut under the arms. He looks down at Tony and then back at the bowl of cereal in his massive hands - hands which although are large have a slender quality to them that almost looks delicate, graceful. When Tony doesn't say anything, Steve swallows down his cereal (Life) and says, "Tony?"

"Hey, welcome to the neighborhood." Tony gathers his thoughts away from the bulging biceps and the ratio of the captain's shoulder to waist measurements and shoves inside the apartment before he embarrasses himself with a woody in the hallway. "I brought a cactus."

He offers it to Steve, who still has his breakfast clutched in one hand and a spoon in the other. "Oh, yeah, sure. That's real good of you. Thanks." He crosses the room, unloads his breakfast bowl and spoon on the small bar between the living room and the kitchen and takes the offered gift. He stands there and stares at it for a minute like he expects it to do something.

"Sun, it likes sun," Tony says and points to the window near the kitchen. 

"Thanks, yeah," Steve says and places the little cactus on the sill. "That's real nice, Tony, thanks."

"Well, cacti are manly plants or so I'm told. It'll be good because it doesn't need a lot of care when you're off doing Captain America stuff plus it's phallic, so how could you go wrong with that?" Tony says as he spins around to take in the dimensions, the color, the general numbness of the apartment. It looks like no one lives here. It looks like it was a furnished apartment and the captain just arrived yesterday. Beige carpet, white walls, brown furniture without pattern or depth, a large screen television perched on a black entertainment center. Even the bowl the captain was eating out of has a brown design on it. 

"I guess," Steve is saying and scratching at the back of his head. He peers at Tony and squints his eyes. "Can I help you?"

"You're up late."

"Didn't get to bed until late," Steve says and leaves it at that. He looks around as if he's lost for second but then decides to go into the kitchen. He looks over the bar to Tony and asks, "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure, why not. Can you pack a bag?"

"What?" He retrieves a cup from the shelf and looks over his shoulder at Tony. "A bag?"

"Yeah, you don't have any superheroing to do today, do you?"

Steve suppresses a yawn. "No, but I was going into SHIELD later for a briefing and my therapy."

"Therapy?" Tony walks up to the bar and leans against it, pushing his weight toward it and swinging in to see the interior of the galley kitchen. 

Steve places a hand on Tony's forehead and pushes him neatly back. "How old are you? Yes, therapy. They have me in therapy to discuss my processing of modern times."

"Is it working?" Tony slides onto one of the stools as Steve places the black coffee in a white ceramic mug that looks like it directly came out of 40s film on the counter. 

"What do you think?" Steve pulls out the milk and a sugar bowl places them on the counter and hands a spoon to Tony, who just stares at it until Steve gives up with a shrug and puts it on the counter, too. 

"I think your 40s sensibilities thinks it’s whacked." He drops in a teaspoon of sugar. The coffee is a little stronger and a lot more bitter than he's used to. 

"If that means, I think it is a waste of time, you're right." He leans back against his Formica counter top, a mug in one hand, and the other arm wrapped around his chest. "I shouldn't be rude, and they've given me some good ideas to cope, but-."

"But, it isn't about feelings, it's about observing, learning, processing everything that's happened."

"Yeah, a little of that." 

"And a little of something else?" Tony says with a tilt to his head. He can't get a good read of Capsicle. Like his father, Steve keeps his emotions under wraps, closed off and buried. He wonders if the hiding out in his apartment has little to do with fear of the outside world and everything to do with how emotionally traumatizing, how loud, overwrought society is now. 

"Maybe, but-." Steve sighs, and drinks his coffee. "What's up?"

"What? A team mate can't come for a visit. I thought you'd like that, as the leader. A little team bonding," Tony says waving between the two of them. 

"Team bonding, that must be a new one, too." Steve discards the rest of the coffee, goes into the living room, where he opens up the drawer of a small table which looks like an antique, and takes out a small notebook, pencil, his smartphone, and a worn piece of paper. He jots down a note in the book and looks up at Tony. "Team bonding is supposed to do what?"

Tony gives him a wide eyed stare that probably looks like a deer in headlights. Maybe this education of Captain America is a little over his head. "You should probably talk to Bruce about that. It has to do with emotions and crap, and band of brothers and probably sisters at this point. I don't even know. Bruce knows, he's good, guru of all things meditation wise."

"Meditation," Steve mumbles as he scribbles in his notebook.

"What? What are you writing down?" Tony jumps up and peeks at the notebook but Steve has it held just out of his sight. 

Steve whips the notebook away from him and frowns at Tony. "Can we discuss what's up here?"

"What's up where? And what did you write down, I think I have a right to know since it's about me."

"It has nothing to do with you." Steve slams the notebook cover down and walks back into the kitchen to purposefully put it on top of his insanely large refrigerator. Somewhere it is obvious Tony cannot reach without assistance or the Iron Man armor. 

"That is not playing fair. What kind of team leader are you anyhow?" Tony knows he's being a snot, but he came over here to be nice and even brought a cactus.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose as if he has a headache which Tony can ascertain from all of the records that he probably doesn't - but that is up for debate. Does he get little things like stress headaches? Who knows? Has anyone ever tested these things? 

As he shifts his attention to the captain, he hears that Steve has been talking all this time and only catches up with him mid-sentence. "So that's nice. I can probably do the rest of the list on my own."

"What? No," Tony says and makes grabby hands at him that is completely not cool and so below Tony he feels his own cheeks color. "No, we're doing this right, as a team. The buddy system, you've heard of the buddy system, right?"

"Not exactly, why don't you tell me," Steve sounds exasperated and he looks tired. This surprises Tony. He looks like he hasn't slept in ages, or at least since they dug him out of the ice.

"Well, when you're a kid and go out on a field trip with your class, you buddy up. Everyone pairs up to make sure you don't get lost or perverts don't come and steal you away." Tony says and sits back on the stool again.

"Perverts? Steal you away?" The aghast look on Steve's face radiates just how sickening he finds the 21st century. "Oh that is just swell and all, now I have to worry about that, too?"

"Perverts have always stolen kids and what the hell else are you worried about?" Tony taps a rhythm on the countertop.

Steve zeroes in on Tony's rapping rhythm on the bar but clenches his teeth so that the muscles in his jaw twitch. "Nothing, everything." The gritting of his teeth muffles his words. He bursts out, "What do you care?"

Tony stops his tapping and looks up at Steve, really examines him. His skin looks like he might have walked out of a vampire movie. He's been out of the ice for how long and he's a candidate for vitamin D deficiency. The bruises under his eyes are not from a recent brawl but from sleepless nights. If Tony had to described the captain he would say hollowed out, as if someone came by and scooped out everything and left him as a shell. Fuck, what are those therapists doing anyhow?

"Listen," Tony says and wishes he had a little more tact like Bruce. "Maybe I'm an ass, and maybe I'm not the person you need right now, but what I do know is that we team up well together, once we sweep away all the pissing contest crap. If Iron Man is going to be a part of this Initiative, these Avengers, then I want to know someone I trust is running the show." He points to Steve's chest. "And that's you. You. Not me, not Fury."

Steve opens his mouth to protest but Tony blocks him. "No Fury, Hill, SHIELD, they might run the show on the inside, but out here, in the real world, on the ground, the battle field, I want someone who knows what they’re doing. Who's faced down death and knows when to lie down on the wire. I want you and, I would bet, every single one of our team mates would agree and say the same thing."

While Steve's closed off, his arm crossed over his chest, his head down, he listens to Tony. When he picks up his head and meets Tony's gaze he says, "You make a good point. Okay, then."

"Then we work on the list together."

"You're my buddy for this, this field trip?" He says the words as if he's testing them out.

"Yeah, I'm your buddy. Now, what's next on the list?" Tony says and rubs his hands together, as if he doesn't already know. He smiles deliciously at the good captain. Now it's time for a little clichéd fun.

*oOo*  
Tony convinces Steve to pack a bag of more than overnight clothes, but is dismayed to discover that Steve doesn’t have much of a wardrobe aside from a few khakis, button downs, and t-shirts, plus his workout clothes and some pajamas. The man needs a personal shopper, but Tony figures he can pick some clothes up along the way. He tells Steve to meet him at the airport and calls up JARVIS to get things rolling while he runs to the Tower to collect his own bag.

When he arrives at the airstrip not only is Steve standing with his bag leaning against his shin, but both Clint and Thor are circling the good captain. When did Thor get back from the great beyond, anyway? Frowning, Tony assesses the situation, and decides he doesn’t like what he sees. The best way to get over that is just to avoid it, his lifelong philosophy on anything he doesn’t enjoy.

“Steve, the plane’s about ready.” He gestures for Steve to follow him to the tarmac and that’s when it occurs to him both Thor and Clint have bags of their own. They all pick up their luggage and start forward. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what is this all about?”

“Team building or bonding or something. Is that right? Did I get that right?” Steve asks and his overtly innocent demeanor gives away that he’s just shitting Tony and he fell for it. 

“Team bonding, you shit,” Tony says and points to Thor. “He’s not coming.”

“He’s my field trip buddy, he has to come,” Clint protests. He claps Thor on the shoulder and the big man doesn’t move at all, like Clint’s a bug on his windshield. It is almost uncomfortably embarrassing. 

“I didn’t invite you,” Tony says and spins around to accuse Steve.

“I didn’t invite you and, look, here we are getting to know one another.”

Tony narrows his eyes at the captain and jabs a finger at him. “You are conniving bastard, you know that don’t you.”

“And you need to understand I wasn’t born yesterday and am not gullible or stupid,” Steve retorts and slings an arm over Thor and the other over Clint’s shoulders. “So, are we going to the next item on my list or are we just going to have that pissing contest again?”

“Clever bastard.”

“Conniving.”

“What?” Tony says as he stumps off to the tarmac. 

“You said I was conniving, not clever,” Steve corrects and the three musketeers are trailing after him like little baby goslings. Tony mumbles a few curses but knows when he’s been had. 

“Fine, good, whatever,” Tony says and climbs the steps up to board the plane. “You know this is the fun plane, maybe you could all decide to go on the bastard plane over there.”

“You really want us not on the plane with you?” Steve asks, his face earnest and pitiful. Now Steve doesn’t know how the fuck to read him? “No, you freak, get on the plane.”

“Do you have Mario Kart on this bucket?” Clint asks as he brushes past Tony to the main cabin of the plane. 

“I am going to live to regret this,” Tony says and grimaces as Clint gives what can only be termed a fraternity howl as he yanks out the game controller and the Mario Kart game. “We hit pay dirt!”

It goes all downhill from there. Tony spends the better part of the next four days in a funk and not enjoying the land of all things mouse at all. When he returns to New York he deposits Spangley Pants on his doorstep with his stupid looking goofy hat on and his luggage on the curb. It doesn't help that said Spangley Pants is still high on all the pleasant idiotness of Disney. He can only thank whatever dimensional gods that Richards is playing around with lately that both Clint and Thor had their own transportation back to their respective homes. Where the hell does a Norse god put down roots in modern day New York anyway?

This is something he does not want to contemplate. 

When he finally marches through the doors of his lab in the Tower and greets Bruce in the middle of something that looks like it might electrocute the guy, he sighs his relief that at least some things are normal and expected. Bruce hops out of the harness and ties it up to the wall. It is obviously too large for him but just the right size for the other guy, Tony discretely (and yes he can do discrete) doesn't mention it. He trudges over to the Keurig, pulls out dispenser cup of the Italian roast, and sets it up to give him a nice shot of coffee. He thinks his ears are still ringing from all the noise the three stooges made over the last days. And three stooges - not something he ever needs to watch again - ever. 

Bruce stuffs his hands in his back pockets and waits. Tony says nothing.

"That good, huh?" Bruce asks.

"Yeah, that good," Tony says and picks some sleep out of his eyes. How can he possibly have sleep in his eyes when he doesn't think he's gotten more than four hours the entire time he's been gone. He cannot even imagine going to Disney World with persons of the small variety. Jesus Fucking Christ, how could that even come close to being a vacation? Considering what he had to deal with he wants to hide in a hole and never come out again - or take out Iron Man and attack that damned fucking unnaturally large mouse. Put a hole right through each of his pie sized ears.

"Everyone had fun?"

Tony wraps an arm around himself and sips the coffee. "Do you know that Iceman gets a military discount at Disney? Something like over 40% off the price of the tickets - four day, park hopper tickets."

"No, I did not know that. I had no idea that Steve was still active duty."

"Actually, I'm pretty certain he isn't. Something about his service and length of it. How can it be the length of it, since most of it he was under a huge iceberg sleeping his tight little ass off."

"Tight little ass," Bruce mimics.

"Shut up," Tony growls and downs more of the coffee. It isn't strong enough - at all. He crosses the room and pulls out a bottle of bourbon. He splashes some of it in the coffee, then a little more. 

"So, you helped Steve out on his list and you're angry that he had a good time?"

"He didn't only have a good time, he had a great time, a fucking great time," Tony lashes out and he knows snapping at the man who could literally chew him up and spit him out is probably not a good career or life choice at all.

"So what's the problem?"

"He had a fucking good time with Clint. Not with me, with Clint. Because Clint claimed Steve as his buddy. I was stuck with Thor. Big, huge Norse demi-god who talks far too loud at any time of the day and likes to break things to express how much he likes something." Tony puts the cup down and rubs at his scalp as if to tear all the hair out of his head. "You want to know how much I had to pay to fix the damned Soaring attraction? Or the monorail? Or the damned teacups, the teacups, Bruce, the teacups. He is a walking disaster movie."

"So you buddied up, and you didn't get Steve," Bruce says with a studious eye, an eye that Tony definitely does not like at all. It alerts Tony to all kinds of wrong ways this conversation is going. "Start at the beginning."

Tony huffs out a breath and then collapses on the pseudo-suede couch - Pepper wouldn't allow a real suede couch in the workshop. "Fine, when I arrived at the airport and met Steve, he brought Thor and Clint. Jokes on me, right?"

Bruce notches his butt on the arm of the couch. "I suppose."

"Well, it was, because Clint proceeded to spend all the time we had with the good captain and I barely got any. Thank god we went to Typhoon Lagoon, otherwise I would never have seen that massively muscular back getting all beautifully tanned."

"Tony?" Bruce says.

"Yeah?" He's a little dreamy because he likes to think about the shoulder to waist ratio of his captain, the captain. The, not his. The.

"I'm getting the idea that you helping Steve with this list of his might not be completely unself-serving of you."

"You got that, huh?" Tony says and rocks forward once in the chair. He feels a little like he's on fire, like every nerve has been scraped over a pebbled driveway. "It isn't what you think."

"Tell me what I think?" Bruce says and crosses his arms. It is alarming how Bruce, so understated, can seem intimidating.

"You think I'm after something with Steve."

"Not exactly," Bruce says. "I think you're after Steve."

"That's, you know, that's insulting. This is our team leader, well de facto in the field team leader," Tony says and eases back on the couch. He knows how to do this, he's an expert. He's been grilled by a Congressional committee for fuck's sake, some jolly green giant hiding in the shape of a mild manner Clark Kent isn't going to shock him into any type of confession, especially since there really isn't one to be offered. "As the other de facto team leader-."

"Really, that's interesting, I did not know that," Bruce says and raises an eyebrow at him. He feels like he's a bug under a microscope.

"Considering I'm remodeling the Tower to be the headquarters for the Avengers on my own dime, I think I get a few more votes on the board," Tony says. "The Captain looks to me to sort these things out."

"Does he?"

"Why are we talking about this?" Tony retorts. "Because I'm feeling attacked. I'm feeling like you, as my friend, are not interested in my issue with this little getaway I endured."

Taking off his glasses, Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Okay, then, what's the issue?"

"As co-leader of the group, I think I should have been able to buddy up with Steve, and you know figure things out."

"In Disney World?"

"Especially in Disney World. The vast wasteland of American ideals? The place purporting to be about bluebirds of happiness? Yes, this was the place Steve and I needed to mix it up, I needed to guide him, show him."

"Ruin all of his ideals about the world,” Bruce adds.

"Yes." It hits Tony what Bruce just said. "No, not that. He just needs to know what the real world is about."

"And Disney World is the place?"

"Seriously, have you seen the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, they even have Captain Jack Sparrow. Looks just like him too!" 

"Tony, I have to admit, I'm still not following you? Was it good to go to Disney to learn about nice things or was it good to learn that things are sugar coated today and just cover up the putridness of 21st century society, because I'm getting mixed signals here."

Tony drops his head into his hands and closes his eyes. "Christ, I don't know. I just-." Disney was not a good idea for the list. Not at all. "I just wanted him to visit the happiest place on Earth, you know." He lifts his head and looks at Bruce. "The guy's got nothing here. I can see it in his eyes when he thinks no one is looking."

"And you're looking?"

He hates to admit it, but it is true. He's spent a great deal of time since they found the captain in the ice studying him, spying on him. "Yeah, I'm looking." He wants to backpedal, make an excuse but for once he doesn't. Somewhere along the way even through the arrogance of the captain on the Helicarrier Tony knows he's found a kindred spirit. 

"Maybe you should be a little more up front with him instead of playing this game."

"He's from the freaking 1940s, the game is all I've got." His shoulders slump and he feels like he did when the palladium was burning a hole through his chest and poisoning him. He feels hopeless. “Shit.” He stands up and runs a hand through his hair. He’s acting like a teenage girl with a crush on the high school quarterback. He feels like a fool. 

“Maybe it’s magic,” he mutters.

“What’s that?” Bruce says but doesn’t stand up to follow Tony’s pacing around the workspace. 

“I started this up to get a feel for the captain, because I sure as hell didn’t want him as part of the Avengers if he’s going to be a stoolpigeon for Fury and SHIELD. I don’t want that.”

Bruce screws up his face and says, “You do realize the Avengers are not yours.”

“Technically,” Tony waves him off. “With the investments I’m making, the Avengers will be under my roof, under my domain. We’ll rule ourselves and work for ourselves.”

“That sounds a little vigilante to me,” Bruce comments.

Tony stops his pacing and looks at Bruce. “What it is – is reality. With Iron Man I affected world peace. With the Avengers, we’ll protect the planet, but not if we have something like the Security Council making dumb ass decisions to throw nukes at their own populace. We need this separate entity, Bruce, and we need Steve as a part of it.”

Bruce tilts his head and nods. “Okay. But still, Disney?”

“It was bonding exercise. Everything I have on that list is specifically designed to help Steve.”

“You have,” Bruce says with a raised eyebrow.

“SHIELD”

“Ah ha.” 

“Shut up,” Tony says and decides it might be best to figure out his next move to get the good captain to do the next thing on his list in California rather than in Manhattan. Under his breath, Tony says, “Beverly Hills, here we come.”

 

INTERLUDE III  
 __  
To: Director Fury  
From: Steve Rogers  
Subject: List- Disney World

_Director Fury,  
I have to admit that the next item on the list was the most confounding to me. I didn’t actually understand what a Disney World was or what it had to do with modern life. The only Disney I knew had been Walt Disney a famous cartoonist back in the early part of the last century. His work and the work of the early comic books inspired me to go to art school. Although I never finished my education (a fact I am willing to admit still continues to bother me today), I have always loved the art of illustration and animation. _

_When Clint told me that Disney World was actually the ‘mind child’ – as he put it – of Walt Disney I became fascinated. When I saw the scope of the ‘world’ I was darn near overwhelmed. It reminded me of waking up and racing through the streets of Manhattan those first few minutes of my life in the 21st century._

_For four days I have to say my mind was blown away but all of the crowds and noise and food. It terrified me at times. I do have to say my favorite ‘attractions’ were not the rollercoasters (they always made me puke when I was a kid) but the shows. I loved the American Experience where they went through the entire history of the America from the earliest days of the Revolution to World War II and Rosie the Riveter! I have to admit I liked the Carousel of Progress too because it was like stepping into a carousel designed especially for me, explaining how each and every phase in the development of electronics and electricity is the best time of your life. But then again, the big golf ball at EPCOT was something to behold. Why is it a golf ball, do you know? Inside of it is the history of communication and once again I was thrust into a lesson of history, and the future._

_There will be a lot to discuss at my therapy session this week. I think that having Disney on the list was a brilliant stroke. It might be populous hogwash as Tony put it, but it has its place. Everything has its place, I suppose. Even a kid from Brooklyn, right?_

_Thanks so much for this wonderful list._

_Next I am supposed to go shopping for new clothes. I guess I can do that, do you want me to use the internet or am I allowed to go the store?_

_Respectfully,  
Capt Steve Rogers_

_P.S. It is crime how much they charge for a hamburger in Disney World. It seems to me ten dollars is extremely high even in this day and age. Is there someone who could put an end to this highway robbery? I tried to tell the local police but they just laughed at me._

_To: Phil Coulson_  
From: Nick Fury  
Subject: FW: List- Disney World  
Agent Coulson,  
It is good to hear that you are recovering well and that you will be taking over a special division once you are fully healed. Right now, though, someone has to figure out what the hell is going on with Rogers. He went to Disney World last week, how did this happen? Isn’t he on strict orders not to leave the state without permission? Who is giving him permission? He hasn’t been cleared by medical to go venturing off. What the hell is going on? 

_Also, a report came in at about the same time that Disney World had a complaint about a Norse god breaking their teacup ride. What the hell is that all about? I want Thor, Barton, and Stark’s asses in a sling – well, at least Barton and Stark’s. This is ridiculous; get this handled Coulson, now._

_Fury  
P.S. Newest intel on Rose Hill looks deceiving. _


	5. The Gere Treatment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a little late. I had a Marvel Big Bang posting yesterday, so my attention was focused on that story. Hope you like this chapter - lots of things happening!

The next time Tony happens to bump into Steve, he appears at the penthouse with an alert from JARVIS just minutes before. When Steve steps off the elevator, Tony thinks they might be under attack again. Steve looks like he’s run all the way from Brooklyn. His shirt is sopping wet with perspiration, his hair slicked against his forehead, and his feet are bare. His fucking feet are bare.

What stops Tony from sounding the alert happens to be the stunned nearly terrorized look in Steve’s eyes, his expression reminds Tony of times as a youth when other kids would taunt him and ridicule his brilliance. Something has happened, something deep and dark which set the pressure cooker off for Steve to race all the way from where ever he had been without any fucking shoes on.

“Steve?” 

He has his hand in his hair and looks around like he just realized where he ended up. He blinks a few too many times and wavers on those bare feet. Tony crosses the room in a rush and ends up by his side, taking his elbow and ushering him to a seat on the couch in the middle of the penthouse lounge. Deciding a drink is in order, he goes to the bar and pours two fingers of Scotch and brings the tumbler to Steve. He literally has to place it in Steve’s hand.

“Drink.”

Steve scowls at the drink in his hand like he might start a fight with it. He concedes and downs it in one gulp. He hands the glass to Tony. “Can’t get drunk, you know. You know that, right?” He giggles a little. “Everyone knows everything about Captain America.”

“Yeah, what?” Tony tries to catch his gaze, but he can tell the way Steve is sitting with his shoulders hunched and his eyes fixed that he’s looking at the middle distance, where life resides in flashes of the past or dreams of the future.

“Everywhere I go, everyone I meet, they all know Captain America. It’s funny, isn’t it?” Steve says and taps the glass. “They all know everything about me and I know nothing about anything. More, please.”

Not knowing what else to do, Tony stands up and half staggers over to the bar. His confusion causes him to stumble a bit as he keeps glancing over at Steve. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but he thinks he might need some help handling the situation. While he pours a second drink for Steve, he says, “JARVIS, call Bruce. See if he is available.”

When Tony hands the filled tumbler back, Steve raises it to him and salutes. “Always a pleasure, Mister Stark.” He doesn’t drink it this time, just sets it on the table and pinches the bridge of his nose as he bends completely over. For a second, Tony thinks he might be puking but that doesn’t even come close. Tony hears the wrecked breathing and the sound like a muffled sob. 

Tony rounds the couch from the back and sits next to Steve, placing his hand between his shoulder blades. He feels the tremor through his broad shoulders and the wheeze of breath. Steve clasps both hands over his face.

Tony presses his hand on Steve's back and looks up when JARVIS announces that Bruce will be delayed. What the hell is he supposed to do? He's not made to figure out what's up with super soldiers with fucking bare feet. He finds himself fisting his hands and forces himself to relax. He circles his palm on Steve's broad back, feeling the muscles and rigid lines of it.

Before he knows what he's doing, he has both hands massaging the good captain and he's shushing him quietly. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Steve sniffles and this sends alarm bells off. He isn't actually crying is he? Because Tony cannot handle big, strong soldiers crying their eyes out. To be honest, Steve isn't sobbing nor is he weeping. The emotions striking his face are harsh and painful. It looks like someone destroyed, it looks like someone lost. 

For a second Tony thinks he might be having a heart attack of his own, the panic of what is happening to Steve is that horrifying to him. 

"I don't-." Steve says and straightens his shoulders. "I don't have any shoes on." He stares at his bare toes and then, with a grimace, back up to Tony.

Tony raises his hands and says, "Hey, don't look at me, I didn't steal them."

Steve puts a finger on his temple and rubs it. Do Super soldiers get headaches? Tony thinks he might have to dig into some of his father's research. Steve blinks like the light is too bright and then says, "No, of course, you didn't." He coughs, and Tony knows it is his way of hiding embarrassment. 

This was the guy who jumped on board of a flying boat and fought aliens just days later. He can handle anything, right? Tony doubts it. 

"I went shopping."

"Shopping?" The list - the next item on the list is shopping. It was a relic from the original list given to Steve by SHIELD which Tony bastardized and made, oh so much more interesting. 

"Do you know how much a suit costs?" Steve looks at him with a startled, almost fearful expression.

"I-." Tony doesn't know if this is a quiz, because he knows senior President Bush was caught on something similar with a loaf of bread and the cost of living. "It's relative?"

"You got that right," Steve says and Tony breathes a sigh of relief. "Because it is somewhere between hundreds and thousands of dollars. Back in the day, when I couldn't afford a suit to go on an interview it was twenty four dollars, Tony. Twenty four and that was too much. Shoes, shoes costs hundreds of dollars, now. How the-." He scrunches up his face and stands up. He starts to pace. "I can handle wars, I can handle aliens. I know what to do. I don't know what to do with this. How am I supposed to function? Do you know the cost of milk and bread today?"

This was the bad question, the very bad question from back in the days of Bush verses Clinton. He shakes his head and just stays mum.

"I don't know either, you want to know why?" He's fierce now, rage and anger seething off of him like waves rippling across the surface of a lake. "Because there are so many different kinds. What the hell is Lactaid? I have no idea. Do you know there’s soy milk, what kind of animal is soy? Bread is bread, right; you'd think I'd be safe with bread. But I'm not because they put twigs in it now."

"Twigs?"

"I don't know, they said it was nuts but it just got stuck in my teeth," Steve stops ranting and stands there in the middle of Tony's penthouse with his broad shoulders slumped and he looks for all his grand muscular form - broken. 

Just as Tony is about to say something, Steve gives a little shake of his head, straightens those massive shoulders, and inhales to steady himself. "Okay, I'm sorry. That was very wrong of me. I'll see you later." He turns on his heel, his bare heel, and steps up to escape when Tony yells after him.

"I'll take you shopping." He finishes the sentence just as the elevator opens and Bruce pops out. 

Both of them say, "What?"

"I said, I'll take you shopping, give you a little breather and help you out." 

Steve smiles at him and looks down at his bare feet. There's almost something charming about it but then he looks back up at Tony like he's been challenged. "Why?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow and walks over to the side as if he's assessing the situation and keeping clear.

"Why not? I like to shop, I have money."

"And I don't?"

"Personally I have no idea if you do?" What the hell? What is this all about?

Steve bows his head to one side and a flick of his tongue appears and disappears, then he looks back up at Tony with a smirk. "I knew I shouldn't come to you. You'll have a good time, right. Show the poor boy the ropes."

"Maybe you need to learn the ropes."

"You'll take me to one of those big discount stores, wow me with the quantity and prices, and then leave me to think that's the norm." 

"Oh no, I was going to take you to Goodwill and get second hand old crap that you could handle, Gramps." 

"I bet you never had to use second hand crap in your life, I bet it was always the best for Tony Stark. I bet a silver spoon wasn't good enough for you."

"And I bet that you can't even use a spoon," Tony snaps back.

"Whoa," Bruce steps in between them and he sees a flash across the captain's face. Maybe it is intimidation or maybe respect, Tony cannot pin it down. "Let's reassess."

Steve nods and looks away. 

Tony concedes as well.

Steve speaks up first. "I was a little over the top. Tony was only trying to be nice. He offered to take me shopping and I-. I just didn't handle it well." He turns to Tony. "I'm sorry."

Tony's a little blown away by the complete about face. He doesn't have a snappy come back. "Yeah, hmm, sure?"

Steve nods again, but it is clipped and military in its character. "Good to see you, Doctor Banner."

"Bruce, you can call me Bruce."

"And you can call me Betty," Tony jokes but Steve just furrows his brows and frowns at him Tony hand waves him off, Paul Simon might be for another time. 

"I-. Good bye, Tony, thank you." Steve walks into the elevator that the traitor, JARVIS, has been holding open all this time. He presses the button and JARVIS allows him to escape before Tony can think of something to convince him to stay.

As the doors slide closed, Bruce turns back to Tony and says, "What was that all about?"

"I'm not sure, but you can bet your big green ass, I'm gonna find out." Tony says.

“You think my ass is big?” Bruce asks as he trails after Tony. Tony rolls his eyes; seriously the man can be so sensitive sometimes. 

*oOo*  
When Steve swings open the door the door to his apartment, Tony's pumped. He's decided to do this and do it the right way. He's been prancing around the bush for too long, it's time to dive in and take the bull (or so called super soldier) by the horns (or arms or whatnot) and actually start submerging the guy into modern culture asap. If it gets him other things, other benefits so be it.

This slow go shit isn't getting them anywhere and he wants to move forward. It has nothing to do at all with what Bruce accused him of last night - the idea that Tony has designs on the old geezer is ludicrous to the extreme and causes Tony's heart to hurt because Bruce is so desperate to have someone wallow in self-abasement with him. Miserable unjolly green giant that he can be at times. 

Steve opens the door to Tony's rapping on it and, in mid-sentence, Tony stops and says, "Call you back later, Pep." He surveys the apartment and frowns. "What the hell is going on here?"

Several cardboard boxes are stacked up in the entrance of the apartment. A large duffle bag sits next to them and words like 'kitchen', 'linens', and 'bath' are scrawled over them in black marker. 

Steve turns and goes into the kitchen to haul another small cardboard box to the stack. He wipes the sweat from his neck with a small kerchief which of course the old man has and stuffs it back in his pocket. 

When Steve doesn't answer immediately, Tony asks, "Are you moving? Where are you moving? Somewhere with some color I hope - because brown and beige so last millennia ago."

"Yes, I'm moving. The van should be here in about twenty minutes."

"Somewhere with a view, I would hope?" Tony says as he peers out the window to the street below. It isn't a horrible view, but it isn't anything to write home about. Then again, Steve really doesn't have anyone to write home to and, that little fact, just pin prickles like tiny needles all over his flesh. 

"I don't really know, I don't know the area, I think they call it Foggy Bottom," Steve says and grimaces. "What kind of name is Foggy Bottom?"

"Comes from way back- wait you're moving to D.C.?" Tony asks.

"Um, yeah, SHIELD sent a note about it a few days ago. I have to bug out today. I have meetings in D.C. by the end of the week," Steve says. "They have the van coming today to load my stuff." He turns around in the small living room area of his apartment. "But I don't have much."

"You are not moving to Washington," Tony says.

"I am if that's where my job is," Steve says and shakes his head. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Doing here? Doing here," Tony says. "We have more important things to deal with right now, like the fact that some super-secret spy agency is trying to make you disappear."

"They aren't-." Steve pinches the bridge of his nose as if Tony's actions plague him with headaches. Steve drops his hands and says, "Okay, Tony why are you here?"

"To work on your list."

"My list-." Steve shakes his head. "I got a note from SHIELD not to work on any list until further notice."

"What?" Tony nearly swallows his tongue. Fucking A - what the hell is SHIELD doing to him, undermining him - sending Captain Spangles off to the hell called our national capital. 

"Yeah, got notification today to stop working on the list until they can verify who okayed it," Steve says and shrugs. "Evidently, I'm not supposed to go out of town."

"They're sending you out of town, you're leaving town, do they even realize how ridiculous they are?" Tony fishes his phone out of his pocket and starts tapping away on it. He orders JARVIS to figure out what the hell is up with his list and SHIELD. "How'd they know about the going out of town anyway?"

"I told them," Steve says and finishes taping up a box. "Can I help you, Tony? What are you doing here?"

"Told them, what the hell? How old are you? No, don't answer that." Tony throws a few glares of his most disgusted kind at Steve. What the fuck is up with this guy. Try to help someone. He tells JARVIS to find all data from Howard on said American freak show. He hooks a hand in Steve's elbow and says, "You're coming with me."

"What? No," Steve says and easily shrugs him off. "I've gotta finish packing."

"Really?" Tony looks at the half dozen boxes lined up next to the door. "How much more do you have?"

Steve hesitates.

"Nothing, right?" Tony shakes his head and picks up the duffle. He shoves it at Steve. "You are coming with me."

"No."

Tony bites his tongue and says through clenched teeth. "I'll give you a ride to the airport."

"No, sorry, I'm driving my bike to D.C."

"All the way to?" Tony bows his head. Why does he care? Why does he care what this idiot is doing with his life, and Bruce's words echo in his head again. "No, come with me."

"You can't make me do stuff, Tony," Steve says. "Listen, I'm grateful but SHIELD has-."

"No rights to tell you where you need to go or what you need to do." Tony states as he gets a message from JARVIS. He reads it, snickers, and hits the button. Everything should be good again. Soon.

"I know that, but SHIELD is the only thing I-." 

Tony stops him with a growl and Steve startles with his eyebrows high on his forehead. "Yeah, stop - SHIELD is not the only thing you have. You have the Avengers. Have you thought about what we will do with you out of town? How are we supposed to function? You know, without our," he waves at Steve, "leader and stuff." The idea of losing Steve tightens Tony’s heart until he’s sure the shrapnel have pierced it.

Steve's phone buzzes before he can answer Tony. He grabs it from the kitchen counter, and reads the message. "Uh."

"What?"

"The list is reinstituted. Says SHIELD wants to me to continue with it while they move me."

Tony holds out his hands and says, "Sanity has prevailed."

Steve presses his lips together and furrows his brows. His look of doubt razors through Tony. "How'd you do that?"

"Do what?" Tony smiles.

"Change their minds?"

"I didn't change anyone's mind," Tony says and, at least, that is technically the truth. Steve studies him for what feels like a full minute before he moves again. 

"Okay, then back to the list." His shoulders slump. "Damn, shopping is still next."

"And that is what I am doing here."

Within three hours, Tony has them hustled onto his private jet again, taking off for California. He has obligations with Pepper and the company and he intends to, at least partially, fill them. He hates disappointing Pepper; she gives him that look which is a cross between motherly and assassinly. He wonders if Natasha taught her– well at least the assassin part of it. 

While they are in the air, Steve sits as he did on the way to Disney, his hands folded comfortably in his lap, his eyes vacant as he stares out the window. After two hours of this, Tony frowns and tosses his tablet aside.

“Is that what you’re going to do?”

Steve looks around, then behind him and when he realizes Tony is speaking to him, he raises his eyebrows as if in question.

“Really, that’s it. You can just sit there and stare.”

“I’m not just staring.”

“Are you sleeping, because sleeping with your eyes open, kind of creepy. Barton does it and he’s the highest level of creepy.”

“How do you know?” Steve says as he considers Tony.

“Know what?”

“That Clint sleeps with his eyes open?” Steve asks.

“I don-. Why is this conversation about bird boy? Aren’t we talking about your weird ass statue like demeanor?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Steve says and throws up his hands. “I’m not sure what anyone is talking about anymore.” He leans his head back against the rest and gazes up at the ceiling of the jet.

“Must be hard, walking around like Marty McFly but in reverse.”

“See,” Steve says with an eye roll. “I don’t know what that means. Who the hell is Marty McFly, is this a pop culture reference, or is it an important scientist? I don’t know. I can only guess. You’re Tony Stark so it could be either. If, for instance, Clint said it I would have to go with pop culture or maybe someone on one of those reality shows, but is that pop culture, because that doesn’t seem like so much culture to me. I don’t even know what the heck pop culture is. Why can it pop? Who defined this stuff? And why should I care?”

Tony waits a minute after Steve finishes his tirade before he says, “Are you done?”

Steve coughs once, sniffs, and nods in a short curt snap of his head. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Marty McFly is a pop culture reference, you did good there, Capsicle. He’s a time traveler but in reverse of your time travel– well except for the second film where he time traveled to his future and then back to his present, which is all kinds of confusing.” 

Steve flaps his hands onto the seat and just scowls at Tony.

“Seriously, I am not trying to make this harder than it must be – because shit it has to be tons harder than I imagined by the looks of you,” Tony says and knows deep in his bones he’s hitting against the marrow of Steve, the inner parts that feed and nourish him – but are hollowed out and spent. He clears his throat and goes for a segue, instead. “So, I’m taking you to the best place in America to shop.”

“Because there’s nowhere in New York City at all to shop,” Steve says with a deadpan look on his face.

“Okay, so you caught me, shoot me.”

“Why, Tony? Why California?”

“First, California is the only place you can go to Rodeo Drive, second, it’s the only place to see the freaks pumping out all the crap that lays the foundation for modern culture, and it also happens to be my second or first home, depending on my state of mind.”

Steve glances out the window of the jet and then back at Tony. His expression is pensive, almost aggravated and a touch worried. “I don’t know why that’s important, Tony. I just want to do this and get it done.”

“You want to do it and get it done or do you want to feel a little more like you belong someplace?”

Steve pauses a beat before he answers. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it does. Because let’s face it, big boy in spangley ass tights, you are never going to fit in.” As Tony says this he can see the heat rise off of Steve. “Listen, you and me, we’re a special breed but two different breeds. You come from the forties, got yourself pumped up with lots of serum and vita-rays and now look at you. You think anyone is going to accept you as normal, as typical. No, you are always going to be different than the average gangsta on the street. What you need to do is not to fit in with the populace but to fit in with us, with the Avengers.”

“I’m not certain that’s an accurate assessment of the situation,” Steve says.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Really? Think about it, just who amongst the raging masses can accept you as completely as a bunch of freaks can? Because regardless of what you may think, you are one of the freaks.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly nice.”

“It isn’t about being nice; it’s about realizing who you are and accepting it. SHIELD is going about this whole integration thing all wrong.”

“I don’t want to see myself as different than the populace, Tony. I believe in equality not what you’re promoting.” Steve is rigid, tense in his seat.

“I never said anything about inequality, I believe in equality as well. But I also believe that people have talents that – if the society worked perfectly – would be the linchpin of who they are and what they contributed to society. Instead, most of the time, people are scraping by and can’t use their talents, their abilities to help one another and society. What I’m selling here, is that you use what you’ve been given and stop trying to pretend, like SHIELD wants you to, that you are a regular jo.”

Steve shifts in his seat, and flexes his shoulders as if his jacket is suddenly uncomfortable small. “I’m not so sure.”

“Listen, to badly quote a kid movie that’s actually aimed at adults, if everyone’s super then nobody is. Get it?”

Steve looks out the window into the clouds and then back at Tony. “I’m not sure.”

“Think about it,” Tony says and tosses him a tablet. “And for god’s sake, do something.”

*oOo*  
Tony doesn’t direct them immediately to their shopping trip. Instead, Tony has them driven to his house in Malibu. Steve trails after him, his hands in his pockets with a look like he’s just walked into a nightmare in a museum. Frankly, it’s a little insulting the way the Captain’s brow bunches up, and he continues to gaze at the place Tony calls home nearly half of the year.

“We’ll go to the stores in the morning. You can settle down, take a load off, all that kind of crap. I’m going down to the workshop for a bit.”

Steve stares at him but stays suspiciously quiet and unmoving. 

“I can get JARVIS to show you to your room. You want something to eat?”

Steve doesn’t move his head, but does scan the area with a shift of his eyes. He focuses on Tony for a second and slowly shakes his head no. Tony hesitates only for a moment, but then moves to the stairs and gestures behind him. He’s not sure what to make of it, but he needs to get a few things finished up for Pepper. They are launching a new device for amputees at Stark Industries. While he will never give away the technology of the Iron Man armor, he plans on using some of his inventions to help – artificial limbs are right up his alley. Pepper wanted the schematics yesterday and he still hasn’t completed his work.

When he enters his workshop and blasts the music, he completely forgets his house guest. It isn’t until Steve appears outside the glass doors, knocking lightly that Tony realizes he just might have worked the entire night. He checks his beard and confirms he has spent the better part of the day locked up.

“JARVIS, open sesame.”

The door unlocks and Steve walks into the workshop. He turns around on his heel, studying all of the different versions of the armor, plus glancing briefly at the artificial robotic limbs Tony has scattered about the workbench.

"Yo," Tony says as Steve enters the workshop. He looks Steve up and down and realizes the man's changed and is carrying shopping bags. Bags with logos of stores he would not recommend. Bag with logos like a target and a big K. This is bad, this is wrong. "What's up?"

Steve rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. "I decided to just get the shopping done when you didn't appear this morning."

He hears nothing after ‘shopping done.’ "Whoa, what? What time is it?" He’d thought he lost the night, not the entire day.

"Seven?" Steve says and that's when his ever helpful A.I. decides to finally chime in.

"Sir, it is seven thirty nine in the evening."

"What?" Tony studies Steve and frowns. "You did all that in an hour? We just got back from the airport."

"Uh?" Steve says and does a double take on the mess scattered around Tony. "What? I - It - it isn't yesterday."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"It's, Tony a whole day went by, when you didn't appear this morning, I went shopping. JARVIS sent me a little map on my phone and I was able to get to all the stores I needed to. You should see what I-." Steve bends down to dig through one of the many plastic bags piled at his feet.

"What?" Tony can't believe how hard his heart beats, how it feels like it's rabbiting in his chest. "What the hell? You went without me?" His plans funnel and drain away, all his lovely plans. He feels like the damned witch from _The Wizard of Oz_ , melting right here in the middle of his fucking laboratory.

"You were busy, but I-." Steve straightens up and has something in his hands but Tony's blind to it, completely and utterly blind to it.

"What the hell? You went without me? I flew your ass all the way out to California so that you could see Rodeo Drive, see the creeps and the freaks." Tony drops the wrench and the meter he's been clutching. "What, no explanation, JARVIS, my man, what the hell?"

"You were deeply involved in your work, sir."

"It's not his fa-."

"Damn well it is his fault." Tony stomps over to the wine case and flings open the door. "What happened to supporting me, JARVIS? I was going to give him the Gere Treatment, how is this supporting me?"

"I'm not sure what the Ger-." Steve starts to say when JARVIS continues to answer Tony.

"I can hardly be expected to support your plans, sir, if you do not see fit to tell me what said plans are."

"Christ, JARVIS, you've seen Pretty Woman, I was giving Steve the Pretty Woman treatment here." He retrieves a wine bottle, checks it out, and digs the corkscrew into it.

Steve looks lost and flummoxed at Tony's remark and then gazes down at himself. He glances back up at Tony. "I'm not a pretty woman, Tony."

"You may not be a woman, but you are pretty." He pours himself a glass, sips it, then down the entire glass. This is just not working out. Not the way he planned. It isn’t about the damned list and getting it done. It’s about Steve. It’s about Tony. It’s about the two of them.

"What?" Steve presses the fingers of one hand into his eye. "Damn it." He drops his hand. "You know it is hard talking in this century, it is triply, no exponentially hard to talk to you. I have no idea what you're talking about. First it's about being special and out of the ordinary and being treated differently. And now it's me being a pretty woman? Damn it, Tony, I feel like I'm missing a good chunk of the movie you're watching. What is going on here?"

"You want to know what's going on here? You want a clue?" Tony knows he should back down, get his emotions under control. But Tony's never been one to deny himself, he's never been one to walk away from something he really wants. Maybe he hasn't been too clear on this little trip, or any of the trips, and maybe he has been lying all along to himself, to Bruce, to every fucking person in the damned world. Because here is Steve, made out of a bottle of blue magic, but what he's seeing is the skinny stick that still doesn't know his way around but is going to put up his fists and fight. What he's seeing is a lot of what he sees in himself, what he recognizes as Tony Stark. A kid that's different but wants to change the damned world. They might approach things differently, they might not always land on the same page, but something about Steve is inherent in Tony, something about Steve is Tony's own definition. They are both paradoxical; they are both strong and weak at the same time. 

Tony lets the weakness overcome him and he succumbs to his whims, to his needs. He crosses the short distance between them and grabs hold of Steve face, clamping on with all of his strength. He practically yanks Steve to him and crushes his lips to Steve's mouth. He pushes and doesn't wait for an immediate response because he knows Steve's startled and surprised and maybe all kinds of disgusted. So this might be his one chance to taste Steve, to feel his breath cascade over his face, to beg entrance. When he does, when he pushes forward, he's surprised because Steve relaxes into the kiss, opens up and welcomes Tony. He feels the length and tension of the muscles of Steve's chest and leg against his own and it draws out a long sigh, a moan of want so deeply embedded in him that even he's a little embarrassed by the sound.

When he comes away for air, and only because he wasn't prepared for Steve to allow him this privilege he only pulls slightly away. Steve's face is flush but not with bashfulness, but instead with want and need and desire. His lips are pinked from Tony's pummeling of them and his hair is a little disarrayed. He pants in short breathes at Tony.

"I never thought shopping was about this," Steve says.

"It can be, if done with the right person." He keeps searching Steve's expression, waiting for him to reject Tony, waiting for him to push away.

"Is this what it is, then? What being special, and the Gere Treatment is all about?" Steve says and he inches closer to Tony's mouth again.

"Maybe, could be," Tony says but then reality strikes and he yanks away. "You're all right with this?"

"Hmm, with what?"

"This," Tony says and points to Steve and then back to himself. "Man on man thing."

"Sure, why not?"

"Wh-what?" Tony steps further back because nothing about Steve's casual answer computes.

"It's nothing, right?" Steve looks a little lost like he thought he found his way but suddenly fell off the train. "I thought it was - like I used to- I don't know."

"What? You thought this was a tension release like when you were in the army?" Tony can’t control his own voice as it pitches higher at the end in disbelief. He cannot believe what he’s hearing about Captain America.

"Ye- I don't know. It isn't?"

"No, it isn't." Tony rips away from him and turns away only to face Steve again. "You've done this before?"

"Sure, I played around a little, we all did. It was war, Tony. It was war." He put an emphasis on the last word, trying to make Tony understand all the horrors. But Steve doesn’t need to force the comprehension, Tony’s understands deep in his gut.

"Jesus Christ."

Steve raises his hands and he still has a small package in one. "I'm sorry; I don't know what the hell is going on. I can’t understand anyone and every time I open my mouth I say the wrong words. Back in my day, yeah you might fool around a little with your buddy, but it didn't mean nothing. It just was to ease off the tension."

Tony sinks lower inside himself. He'd thought he won the day, but he lost the race, shit, he lost the tournament. "No, no."

"It isn't about a buddy thing," Steve says in quiet tones as if he's frightened he might scare Tony away - he's not wrong. The strategist understands people's motives.

"No, no it wasn't," Tony says and is even slightly surprised that he's laying it out on the line. So blatant and open and free to be crushed.

"Oh," Steve says and drops his hands and stares at the small package. "I bought you something."

"What?" Tony can't even see straight. His eyes are bleary but not from tears, from pure exhaustion. 

"Here," Steve says and hands it to him.

Tony opens up the bag and stares into it. He's not sure what he's looking at and has to pull it out to make sense of it. "What?"

"It's a bobblehead. A Captain America bobblehead. I figured when you couldn't get something through my thick skull you could give it a hit. It bobbles."

"That's completely ridiculous."

Steve hauls out another package. "I got myself an Iron Man tension ball. Anytime I'm frustrated I squeeze it." It looks like he's already opened the package. He digs out the ball which is really just a facsimile of the Iron Man helmet. Steve squashes it in his hand. He chuckles a little. "Looks like your eyes pop out of your head."

"You're nuts." Tony shakes his head.

Steve looks up and smiles, but it isn't an innocent smile or even a slightly stupid one. This smile lures Tony back; this was the smile Steve gave him on the Helicarrier in challenge. This smile goes directly to Tony's groin. 

"Ya think?" He raises his single eyebrow.

Tony whistles. "You know." He saunters closer to Steve. "Everyone thinks you're some innocent jo, but what I'm getting is something a little less innocent and something a lot more devious and maybe a little more worldly than you let on."

Steve wraps an arm around Tony's waist and says, "You figured that out all on your own."

"Pretty much."

"I guess your right about one thing," Steve says and leans into kiss Tony.

"What?"

"Well, you are a genius," Steve says and then sets him straight about everything else by thoroughly kissing him until his knees give out.

INTERLUDE IV  
To: Director Fury  
From: Steve Rogers  
Subject: List- Shopping

Dear Director Fury,  
I really think it is a little bit of a crime to send me on a wild goose chase. I can shop. I don't need you to send me on a shopping trip for clothes. I know this shopping for clothes was placed on the list to surprise and shock me with the different clothing prices and shoe prices (which are ridiculous by the way). I can get by, you know. I can figure out what different places to shop, and I can do research. I understand how to use that internet thing everyone in this century seems addicted to. I find it a little insulting that this list doesn't actually acknowledge that I have a brain and can adapt. Dr. Erskine picked me for reasons. If I couldn't deal with change, how the heck would I have ever dealt with everything thing that happened to me on that day they injected me with the serum.

So, please don't expect me to go about finishing up your list. I am going to Napa Valley next and I will not be doing anything else you want me to look at on this darn list - pardon me. While I've enjoyed parts of the list, I would like to be able to just interact with my colleagues and deal with things as they come, maybe take a few classes as well. I can tell you Tony is doing an excellent job showing me the ropes. I now understand what tumblr is, who the vlogbrothers are, and that the twenty four hour news cycle is a bad thing because it just means endless repeats and empty headed analyses of things the reporters know nothing about. So, thanks but no thanks. 

See you in a few weeks; I'm taking some time off.

Sincerely,  
Captain Steve G. Rogers

PS: Sir, this is all said with the utmost respect.  
PPS: I do not want to move to D.C.. I will be moving to the new Avengers’ Tower when I return.

FW: To: Natasha Romanoff  
From: Nick Fury  
Subject: List- Shopping

Natasha,  
Fuck your profile. What the shit is Stark doing with the All American Hero? Do something, NOW!

Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Tell me your thoughts - would love to hear them.


	6. Days of Wine an Deluca

Tony gives the good Captain a sidelong glance. He’s sitting ramrod straight on the wooden bench, hands folded in his lap, and staring out through the wire cage door. Tony clears his throat and shifts a little as he sits next to Steve.

“So, we gonna talk about this?”

“No.” Steve doesn’t even bother to look at him.

“We’re just going to ignore the fact that we’re caged up in the winery’s cellar?”

“Yep.” 

Tony nods and flicks his eyebrows once. “Okay.”

This really isn’t his fault. He’d planned it out, but Steve – well Steve is Steve and he cannot get drunk and, seriously, how is _that_ not a direct challenge to Tony Stark? Heading to Napa Valley for some rest and relaxation had been Tony’s idea. He thought it would be good for Steve to just kick his shoes off and forget that the world passed him by while he slept like some weird ass version of Ichabod Crane. 

All on his own, Steve decided to abandoned the list and start living. He’d even told Tony that during lunch the day after the major shopping failure. “I’m not doing the list anymore.”

“No?” Tony wiped his mouth and placed the wrap to the side. He liked a good turkey artichoke wrap but sometimes it did not like him. 

“No, I think it’s too artificial. I think I have to decide how to integrate into this world, or not.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and said, “Or not?”

Steve hadn’t expounded on his meaning, nor did any prodding bring forth any information that might help Tony assess the Capsicle’s state of mind. 

“I just want to see what there is to offer.”

“Like there’s something better or an alternative?” Tony had said.

Steve shrugged as he looked out at the great sweep of the Pacific Ocean from Tony’s balcony. He stood up, walking away from the table, slipping the tips of his fingers into his jean pockets. “I suppose not. I suppose there’s only the choice to accept it or not.”

“See, I’m still not getting the not part of that,” Tony said and dusted his hands of crumbs then joined Steve by the side of the balcony. 

Steve only glanced at him and didn’t reply. The warm wind off the ocean played with his hair and when the light hit his face just right, Tony could see a weariness that lurked beneath the collected and stoic exterior. 

“We should go get drunk.”

Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea Tony ever had, but then again it had been a helluva ride. Steve acquiesced even though he repeatedly informed Tony that he could not get drunk and no amount of alcohol would help.

Tony shook his head as they sat in his private jet again on their way to Napa Valley. “Seriously, that is a challenge and I never say no to a challenge.”

“Perhaps you should,” Steve deadpanned and sat there like he had on the trip out to California. Tony only frowned and vowed to get the guy to loosen up. 

Sure he’d been able to have a couple of hot kissing, necking sessions with said Captain, but Steve always stopped things and found excuses not to go any farther than a quick feel good time at third base. When Tony tried to quiz him about it, Steve had the same obscure type of answer.

“Thought you said it wasn’t just a buddy thing.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Tony said and watched as Steve shut down completely.

“Then I think we should cool it.”

Once Steve said that he’d become an enigma, a riddle that Tony needed to solve as much as the challenge of getting Steve drunk had become his own personal crusade. Steve had said he was okay with it, but at the same time refused to go farther than heavy petting. It all became something of a mystery that Tony resolved to figure out.

Of course, that did not logically lead to being placed in a cage in a wine cellar of one of the newest and flashiest vineyards in all of California. Nothing is easy, nor a straight line in Tony’s life. He’d given what Steve had said some thought and then decided it might be a good idea to get him to relax. Sure, he could have suggested a number of other things from surfing to hiking to going to a strip club. Going to Napa Valley really zeroed in on one of Tony’s other issues with Steve – that not being able to get drunk thing.

The conversation on the flight over to Napa just solidified Tony’s conclusions. This was the right thing to do. He rented a car and they were off to the great green lands of Napa valley. He made a stop at Dean and Deluca, looking for supplies which included some cheese, bread, a knife, a cutting board, little plastic cups made to look like wine glasses. They stopped at several of the wineries along the way. Tony bought a flight from each and every one, making Steve drink them all.

Nothing happened. 

Steve stayed the same.

Tony got frustrated out of his mind. How the hell was he ever going to get the guy to relax if he couldn’t get him drunk? His next method to attain said goal was to buy copious amounts of wine. Bottles and bottles of it. They stopped and bought a corkscrew and Tony planted a few bottles in Steve’s seat, telling him to drink.

Steve only raised an eyebrow, sniggered, and followed orders.

Maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe the good captain should have stayed good because even the captain of America can be vulnerable to the sway of alcohol. 

“All we really need to do is overwhelm your alcohol dehydrogenase. You must have some killer levels.” Tony shrugged and handed the captain another bottle. It started to rain and he pulled to the side of the road. 

The rolling green hills, the vines heavy with grapes and the scent of cheese and wine mixed to a heady haze. He knew he shouldn’t be teasing Steve; he should let sleeping dogs lie – as it were. But something was off about Steve, something was wrong. The very idea that Steve weighed the possibilities of accepting the world the way it is now, or just NOT – caused Tony to go cold inside. 

He gazed past the roadway to the long twisted vines of grapes, growing in cluttered masses along their wired fencing. The cheese they bought was in the paper bag and he dug it out, along with the chopping board. As he sliced the cheese and found the bread he’d purchased as well, he pointed to the vines.

“Get us some grapes, would ya?”

Steve looked at him, surprise in his expression. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that. Wouldn’t that be trespassing?”

“You’re too scared to go and get a clump of grapes.”

“I think it’s called a bunch.”

“Clump, bunch, who gives a crap, go get some. We can have a little picnic in the car.”

Steve ducked his head and shook it. “I don’t think that’s right, Tony.”

“Come on, it’s just a bunch of grapes, there’s a ton of them. Go get some. It happens all the time, all the tourists do it.”

“I don’t see anyone else doing it,” Steve had said as he scanned the barren roads.

“It’s raining; all the other tourists are melting. Come on. Get to it.”

So, he ended up getting Captain America detained by the vineyard’s security. When Steve plucked the clumps of grapes free of the vine, at least six guards appeared and surrounded him. Tony was certain he’d just knock them all out and race back to the car, but he surrendered. Right there in the middle of the damned row, surrendered, gave up, put his hands in the air while the rain poured down. Tony considered leaving him to his doom, but decided that Pepper and probably Bruce would be a little more than pissed at him if he did that.

When he tried to intercede, Thing one and Thing two (the official names of the two guards who looked like they had half a brain) both concluded Tony was the getaway car (admittedly not a bad deduction) and forced him to surrender as well. Tony thought he’d done the right thing by giving in and joining the Captain. 

He started his spiel immediately, identifying himself, offering a great deal of incentives to be allowed to leave. Instead, Steve and Tony had been escorted down to a wine cellar on the premises and left in a cage.

“Maybe you could break us out of the cage?” Tony says now. He’s sick of sitting in the near darkness.

“Nope,” Steve says and continues to ignore Tony.

“Nope you can’t, or nope you just like sitting in the dark with me.”

Steve huffs and bows his head before turning to look at Tony. “I don’t like stealing, Tony.”

“Okay.” He’s not sure where this train is headed. Maybe he should get off? He does the most illogical thing he can think of, he stays on the crazy train.

“You had me go and try and steal their grapes. Grapes which are considered proprietary.”

“Hmm, you would have already known that when you got out of the car to do it. You have free will, Cap, you can’t blame that decision on me.” Tony hopes that derails this little trip. It does not.

“You know what? You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Steve curls his lip a little and it reminds Tony of an angry toddler and he shouldn’t have such silly thoughts, but it is hard not to in the shadowy cellar of a wine basement.

“Do you mean that in a good way or in a bad way?”

“Oh for Pete’s sake. A bad way, a bad way.” Steve presses his fingers into his eyes, then drops his arm and glares at Tony. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know, I just wanted to have a little fun, but you’re digging for something, you want something and it’s more than just a little stress relief. What’s going on?”

Tony’s not ready for the full Monty confession so he hems and haws a little. “I’m concerned.”

“Concerned, that’s rich, that’s real good of you, Tony. Like I told SHIELD, I don’t need anyone giving me lists and things to do to make me accept this is my place now. I understand. I get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” Tony says and he needs to get up, needs to pace the small six by six enclosure. “I think you’ve turned this into some kind of game, some kind of scavenger hunt. But the real hunt isn’t for things on the list, the real hunt is for a reason to go on.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve says and folds his hands. He’s the picture of calm and decorum. 

“I think I do, I think I’ve actually hit the nail right on the head. I think you are looking for something to hang onto because right now, you have nothing. You have this nebulous feeling. You look around the world and you see it, but it’s not right, not in focus. You kind of recognize it, but you don’t, there’s something off. It’s like a book where the layout is wrong and the colors are all offset to the pictures.” Tony continues to pace back and forth in their little prison. “You know I’m right, that this whole place, this whole fucking world is off kilter for you and all you want to do is go back home or leave it.”

He doesn’t see it coming; he’s more surprised than hurt by it. Steve leaps to his feet and shoves Tony. He staggers back and hits the wire mesh of their cage. 

“Just leave it alone. I swear to God, why the hell do you care? Why?” Steve shakes his head and when he lifts his hand to rub his forehead Tony sees that it trembles. “This is my life.”

“One that you’re currently trying to decide if you want to live or not. I think I’m obligated to do something about that, I think it’s a moral imperative.”

“I’m not-.” Steve stops and glances around the confined space. He stumbles over to the bench and puts his head between his legs as if he’s hyperventilating or, at the very least, trying to prevent it.

Tony crosses the small space and places a hand between the captain’s shoulder blades. He rubs round circles.

“You know, it’s not the same thing, not even close. But for me, when I came back from Afghanistan, I felt as if the world had reset without me in it. I kept looking for common ground and when I did find it I would slip and fall,” Tony says and settles down next to Steve. “I, at least, had people I recognized and who I cared about around.”

Steve looks up into the darkness, but not at Tony. “And I don’t.”

The words ricochet off the walls as if to emphasize their profundity. Tony doesn’t know what to say about that, he might understand parts of the human mind – and he does – can’t build an A.I. without the basic fundamentals – but this is so off, so complex he thinks it might have too many variables. The only way to solve something with too many unknowns is to simplify it.

Tony decides there’s only one way to simplify it. “You were right, I don’t want it to be just about stress relief.”

Steve doesn’t respond immediately, doesn’t look at Tony. He hangs his head and says after a minute. “I don’t need any pity, Tony.”

“I don’t want to give you pity. I am the last guy in the world to offer pity. But what I’m offering is something else, something different. Can you handle that? Can you decide to stay with it, dedicate yourself to the world, the game, if you had someone to ground you, someone there for you?”

As Steve opens his mouth to answer there’s a clatter and then they see several shadows moving down the hallway toward the cage. 

“Stay behind me,” Steve says and steps in front of Tony. Routinely, Tony would object, but since he doesn’t have the suit and Steve’s much more – well Captain America – he remains behind Steve but does stand up.

Several figures head toward the cage and then, over Steve’s shoulder, Tony spots a glint of red hair like flame. The lights are turned on. He stifles a curse as Natasha raises a single brow and shakes her head. The guards unlock the cage on her unspoken command.

Both Steve and Tony step out of their little prison. “You know that’s kidnapping,” Tony yells after the two burly thugs as they depart.

“Shut it, Stark,” Natasha says and her look is enough to curdle milk. She is not happy. “Stark Industries will be using Coventry Wines for all of their major functions for the next three years.”

“I don-.”

“Pepper agrees,” Natasha says and then looks at Steve. “You need to report into SHIELD. And stay away from him.”

Tony grabs at Steve’s hand and jerks him back to his side before they even turn to exit. “He’s not going with you. He’s on vacation, with me.”

“On vacation? With you? Stealing people’s property?” Natasha folds her arms and watches them.

“I’ll apologize in person-.” Steve offers.

“That won’t be necessary. At this point, they haven’t made you, yet. They just think Stark’s been roaming about Napa Valley with his new boy toy. They don’t know that it’s Captain America.”

“Boy toy?” Steve says.

“It’s better than the whole world knowing Captain America likes to steal as a hobby.”

“I do not,” Steve says and pushes past her toward the stairs. 

Before Natasha turns to follow him, Tony stops her. “Don’t take him back, yet.”

“What? Why?” Natasha narrows her eyes as if she can discern the hidden secrets of Tony’s motives.

“He’s not in good shape. I think he’s a tad more on the edge than anyone really knows. Let him hang out with me for a few more days.” Tony waits as she considers him.

“That’s dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous to take him back to SHIELD, move him to DC, and expect him to fit right into modern America. I’m telling you; even Captain America has his limits.”

She looks him up and down and tilts her head as she does. “Okay, you have a week, and then you have to get him back to SHIELD.”

“And if I don’t?”

“SHIELD will come after you.”

Tony winks at her. “They can try.” He leaves following his Captain to the surface.

INTERLUDE V  
 __  
To: Steve Rogers  
From: Natasha Romanoff  
Subject: Stark

_Steve,  
I just wanted to send you a short note. I know you are spending some time off with Stark. I did his profile before he joined the Avengers Initiative. He’s narcissistic, doesn’t play well with others, and has a tendency for showboating. He’s not someone you can rely on. _

_I’m concerned that you’ve abandoned SHIELD for some reason you are not sharing. If you need someone to talk to, Steve, I’m here. I can keep anything you need in confidence. Just don’t go it alone, all right? Stark might not be the best person to buddy up with._

_Sincerely,_  
Nat  
PS I will be out of the office for a while I am being assigned a case regarding a Soviet Union operative that I had some dealings with back in the day. 

_To: Natasha Romanoff_  
From: Steve Rogers  
Subject: Stark 

_Nat,  
Thanks for the advice. I appreciate it. You forget I met Tony’s father and, regardless of how much Tony doesn’t like his father, he really shares quite a few characteristics with him. I think I can handle it on my own._

_Plus, I don’t think I want to buddy up with Tony. That’s not in the cards._

_Sincerely,_  
Steve  
PS Good luck on the case, if you need me I’ll come back in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your continued interest in this story. I might be a little late in updating as we get closer to November 11th. I will be going in for major surgery and might not be able to write for a while. FX I can get it completed prior to that.


	7. Time in the Ring

He doesn't know why but when he ends up back in Malibu he expects to be alone especially since Steve so clearly indicated he didn't want anything to do with Tony - he even ended up disappearing with Natasha after Tony's dire warnings to her. Along the way home, he stops off for burgers because burgers solve everything that alcohol doesn’t and since he’s liquefied from the wine run he tries to do the responsible thing – and sop up some of the alcohol with food. It doesn’t work, he still hungers for the alcohol. So, as Tony enters the mansion he calls up some music and decides the only thing to do is to get good and drunk but JARVIS stops him.

"Sir, you have a guest, who is waiting on the balcony for you."

He thinks nothing of it at first. Why would he? He always has guests, Pepper drops by, Rhodey is apt to hang out at the mansion when he's in town. He veers off to the balcony ready to give Rhodey the low down on one very stubborn and pain in his ass Capsicle when he spots said freezer pop standing right there, blocking his view of the fabulous Pacific Ocean.

"Well, I'll be damned," he murmurs. He needs a drink, and, before he addresses the lost boy from World War II, he decides to pour himself a few fingers of Scotch and then confront the good captain. He knows it will be a confrontation, trying to get the idiot to relax and give himself some room as been nothing short of a disaster.

He throws back a swig and then pours the two fingers to shore up his courage. He straightens his shoulders and walks over to the large open exit to the balcony. He leans against the wide door frame, clinks the ice a few times, and smiles.

Steve has his hands stuffed in his leather jacket pocket. His usually coiffed hair is messed and he has a definite scuff going on. He looks like someone beat up Captain America and left him for the dogs.

"So, come back for a few more kicks?" Tony asks. "I thought you wanted to hang out with the Widow, you know, get to know her better." He knows he's bitter, but he hates mixed signals. Tony has always been an upfront guy; he doesn't hide what he wants.

Steve shrugs his shoulders but keeps looking out onto the line of the ocean, the stretch and beauty of it as the sun glitters along the waves' edges. Tony can’t blame him; the ocean has been his solace more than once. Steve bows his head for a moment and then looks up to Tony. There's something desperate there, but also a hint of surrender in his eyes, his shoulders, his stance. 

When he speaks his voice is hoarse as if he's been screaming for days. "She told me to come here. She told me she wouldn't be coming to pick me up for a week, that I needed the time off."

Tony swings away from the side of the door frame and walks out to the balcony. His curiosity centered on why Natasha would do such a thing drives him forward. "What do you think? Always do what you're told like a good soldier?"

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. "No, never been a good soldier, always messing up and not listening to the orders."

Tony tilts his head as he studies Steve. He'd very much like to go and get in one of his suits and go toe to toe with Steve. Maybe that's what he needs, a good thrashing. "Don't know why you came here."

"I thought I was welcome."

"You don't want me as your buddy, you want to cool it, you don't-."

“Yeah, yeah," Steve says in a whisper. He strolls over to the balcony's wall and leans against it, putting his full body weight toward it. "Maybe, I want." He stops and turns to look at Tony. He examines Tony as if he's a puzzle or a possible threat. "Tell me why you want to do this."

"You'll have to define what you think this is."

"Between us, together."

"Doing the list or something more?"

Steve turns to the water and says, "You're my last link, and I'm sorry about that, Tony. You don't want to be, because I know you don't like your father, or didn't like your father, I should say. But you're my last link."

"I don't know if that matters one way or the other."

"It does." Steve nods. He switches gears. "Peggy's still alive, you know. But I never got in touch with her, I couldn't - I couldn't see her, not yet."

"But I'm easier?"

"Yeah, that makes me a coward and a bastard, I know." Steve sighs and looks back to Tony. "You're right, I keep trying to figure out how to accept this world or not. Though I can't get past the not. What do I do if I can't accept it? What do I do? I don't know, I can't answer that. So, maybe coming to you, looking at you and seeing you - you look so mu-."

"Jesus Christ, you're here, you want me because of my father? That is fucking sick."

"No," Steve says, his hands out as if he's reaching for something, groping for a handhold. "No, you do look like him, and I find a little bit of solace in that and then you open your mouth and _well_ entire picture disintegrates. I didn't know your father that well, but I - I'm sorry I'm not expressing myself very well."

Tony studies Steve. He's off put and frozen in place, even the drink in his hands gives him pause. "What do you want Steve, really?"

"You, you're different than everyone else," Steve says, and Tony recognizes the moment he releases, lets it all out. "Everyone else just wants to walk around on egg shells around me. But you, you’re just you, you don't take any shit. You just push and push and push and you force me to face things."

"Face things?"

"You brought me to Bucky's grave; no one else offered that to me. No one." His voice cracks, nearly breaking. "Everyone is avoiding the past, and not really introducing me to this future, or this present. Gosh, I don't know what to call it. Do you get it, Tony, do you see? You see me as a person not some strange kind of link to the past, like I'm a walking legend."

"You do understand that you are a living legend?"

"Yeah, yeah, but I-."

"But you're also you, a guy trying to figure out this screwy world."

"Yeah." Steve isn't looking at him anymore; his eyes are fixed on the crash of the blue waters.

"Can I ask you something?" Tony joins him at the wall, leaning with the drink over the concrete.

"Sure, I keep dumping on you."

Tony frowns but continues, "I kissed you."

"Hmm."

"We played around a bit."

Steve hasn't looked at him, just nods in confirmation.

"From what I understand, fooling around with your buddy in a war zone isn't about cuddling. It isn't about touching and feeling, it's about a quick jerk off to release tension and stress."

Steve turns toward him and his expression surprises Tony, wrecked and broken. Nonetheless, he answers truthfully. "That's right."

"We didn't do that."

"No."

"You don't want a buddy thing with me."

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them, and looks at Tony. "No."

The answer feels like a brick weight on his chest – it presses downward, it is present and firm. He needs to understand it, to take it apart, to analyze it. Tony needs time to process the data so he diverges on the pathway of their discussion. "You came to me barefoot."

"Yeah, yeah I did."

"Because?"

"I panicked?" It is not stated but asked.

He doesn't need to ask any more questions. He has all the data he needs. Steve is broken, more shattered and fragmented than he first thought, he's grasping, begging for help and he's come to Tony. Tony is the one person he trusts, the one person he'll lay himself bare to, and the one person he's offering himself to.

"You want to go a few rounds?" Tony asks. He really wants to drag Steve into his bedroom, tear off all of his clothes, and show him how different he is, how much he cares, and that the future is worth living.

Steve considers him with a scowl.

"Not trying to be provocative, well maybe I am, but I think you need a bit of a tension release and I'm not sure I should debauch you just yet. Plus, I don’t think I want to be your little fuck buddy, I think I want it to mean something more. And don’t ask what." Tony wants to congratulate himself for such self-restraint. He has come to recognize, in the last few days, that he does want Steve, but that Steve is something of an enigma, even probably to himself. “What do you say?”

“I’d crush you.”

“Wanna bet?” Tony says and tosses the rest of his drink over the railing. He discards the glass on the table. He turns to the main room of the mansion, looks over his shoulder and says, “Can you take me in my suit?”

It is a challenge, it is something to wipe away the loss and ugliness he sees on Steve’s face all the freaking time. As he stands there, his hands still tucked into his pockets something passes over his expression and, for a fleeting moment, Tony knows it as anger, unbridled and raging, but then the Captain gets it under control again. For a single second, Tony wants to revoke his suggestion.

“Yeah, let’s try it out,” Steve says and walks toward Tony.

Tony swallows back his fear. This isn’t going to be hard; he has the damned suit of armor. Steve has – well – he has all that muscle and stuff. Tony flicks his eyebrows and sighs. “God damn.”

“What’s that?”

“Let’s go, gym’s over this way.” Tony directs Steve to his private gym, shows him where to stow his stuff, and then goes to get suited up. When he returns Steve is standing in his boxer briefs with his hands taped up, and his feet bare. 

Before he lowers the faceplate, Tony says, “You sure you don’t want, like, your uniform or something?”

“Didn’t bring it with me.”

“How about the shield?”

“I thought this was hand to hand.”

“You use it with hand to hand, I’ve seen you,” Tony says. He really doesn’t want to break the Captain – Fury will really be pissed then.

“I don’t need it now, you gonna fight or stand there like a rusted out Tin Man?” Steve says and bounces around the mat a few times. 

Tony rolls his eyes, what the hell kind of idea was this shit anyhow? He shrugs in the confines of the suit and steps up to the mat. They are not in the ring but on an open mat area in the gym. “Come on, Capsicle, let’s see what the old man’s got.”

Like a bullet exploding from a barrel Steve rams into him. Luckily JARVIS immediately compensates and Tony doesn’t topple over. Instead, he wavers backward and then, using his momentum, thrusts forward shoving the good captain off and to the mat. 

“Ha, that’s all ya got,” Tony says with glee. This isn’t bad; perhaps it might be a little bit more fun. He can work off his own angst, his own frustration with their ambiguous relationship. 

Scrambling to his feet, Steve levels his shoulder at Tony and slams against him with a force to cause him to stumble backward. He twists around to get his leg tangled with Steve’s but, with a grace Tony didn’t know Steve had, he’s able to maneuver so that he has his arm under Tony’s arm. With that move, he cranks his forearm up and squeezes. The metal groans in response and JARVIS warns of the integrity of the armor.

Tony throws back his one arm and smash forward, though he pulls it slightly because he’s not a sadist and he doesn’t want to crush Steve’s face. 

Steve falls back but jumps up. “Don’t pull your punches for me.”

“I could do serious damage.”

“Let’s see you try,” Steve says and launches himself at Tony.

The attack has finesse but it is brutal and frenzied at the same time. He works with his legs and arms while he goes for the joints of the armor, pulling off plating and grabbing for the wiring and circuit panels. Truly, Tony never expected the Captain to ravage the armor, and he’s momentarily glad he didn’t suit up in one of the latest versions. At one point, Tony’s able to lock an arm around the captain’s throat, holding him in the clenched position, but then Steve heaves backward and then in a great swing flips Tony over his shoulder. 

“Unlock, unlock!” Tony yells as he directs JARVIS to release the hold of his arm so he doesn’t break Steve’s neck. Just as he arcs over Steve’s shoulder, the arm finally eases off and he lets go. He still hears a ragged cough from Steve. Rolling over, he struggles to his knees and says, “What the hell, I could have killed you.”

“You and what army, Shellhead,” Steve says and pushes forward, ripping at the exposed circuitry of the suit and it sends alarms in distress to Tony.

“Sir, limb coordination has been compromised; suggest you surrender to Captain Rogers.”

“Manual override.”

“Sir, I am not sure that will-.”

“Just do it.” JARVIS complies and the suit shifts under the trauma of Steve’s attack.

Steve grips Tony’s arm and contorts it so that the armor sings alerts to him. With a thrust Steve drives Tony’s right arm behind the suit and must grasp some of the metal plating because flashes of the armor’s integrity alarms fill the HUD. Tony whizzes around and powers through with a slam to Steve’s chest that flings him across the gym. He bangs into the padded wall and topples over, but Tony races to his side, more to ensure that Steve is all right then to further his attack. As Tony bends over him, Steve lurches up and claws at the faceplate, shredding it with his bare hands. Instantly, he clutches his hand around Tony’s throat and presses hard and unrelenting. 

Tony’s right arm is still useless due to the damage to the suit, but he grasps Steve’s arm with his left hand, gauntlet warming to fire. Shit, he doesn’t want to fire, he doesn’t.

“Steve, god damn it, stop.” The compression of his airway squeezes until his eyes start to water.

Yet, Steve’s eyes are ablaze, fury, and anger and death and hell all written within his fiery expression. Across the Captain’s face Tony sees a stain of something primitive and dark, but the darkness isn’t evil or malicious – it is fear and hell and everything that means loss of hope. He growls down at Tony even as the repulsor fires up.

“Ste-.” He can’t speak, his air chokes out of him. He grabs hold of Steve’s hand around his neck as JARVIS warns of the compression of his trachea. No air leaks through to his oxygen starved lungs. “Pl-pl-Ste-.”

“Sir, I will fire override and fire if he does not relent.”

Tony can’t do anything with his right arm, it’s frozen from the damage. He considers firing up his boots and slamming Steve into the wall, but Tony coughs once at Steve. Whatever horror Steve exists in, whatever nightmare suffocates him, it now collapses.

He releases Tony, staggers backward, looking at his hand as if it is a monster that’s betrayed him. He glances back up at Tony, a wild almost feral look to his expression. He looks like an animal about to bolt. It is all Tony can do to croak out a stop.

“Stop,” Tony rasps and retracts his left gauntlet to rub at his throat. “Stop.”

Steve shakes his head, his lips are parted, spittle drool to his unshaken chin. Tony witnesses the moment when Steve realizes what’s just happened, what he’s nearly done. He shivers once and then sways a bit on his feet. 

“JARVIS, retract suit,” Tony says.

JARVIS tries to comply but the right arm won’t come free and Tony has to disengage the rest of the suit from the shoulder in order to be free of it. 

“Hey, hey,” Tony says as he crosses the distance between them, the right gauntlet still twisted and mangled on his arm. 

“I don- I just-.” Steve grimaces and turns his face away.

“Where are you going?” Tony says because, even though Steve hasn’t move, Tony can see clearly that he’s losing him, he’s fleeing even as he stands still. “Stay with me big guy.”

“No, I just-.” He looks up at Tony. “I have to leave.”

Tony grabs his arm and refuses to let go even as Steve begs him with his eyes. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“I think I am, let me go.”

“No.”

“I nearly killed you.”

“Yeah so, I’m not dead. Lots of people nearly killed me, no one has succeeded so far.” Even as he reaches for Steve, the man is falling back, stumbling away from him. Steve murmurs something the entire time and his eyes are searching, looking and losing focus. “Steve, Steve, look at me.”

Steve jolts and focuses on Tony. Beyond ruined, he looks lost and abandoned like a child taken away from his parents forever. It is this expression, this acknowledgement of all that Steve has lost and surrendered to the cruelty of fate and time, that hits Tony hard. He’s not prepared for it, how could he be? Tony never professed to understand the psychology of the human mind, the emotions, the id or ego or whatever the hell it is. How do you deal with someone who has literally lost his entire world?

“Steve,” Tony says and grasps his arm before he crumples over. “Steve, you have me.”

“I nearly killed you,” he repeats and he sound defeated.

“You couldn’t have, Steve. I would have blown your hand off before you choked me to death. If I couldn’t do it, JARVIS would have. JARVIS?”

“Captain Rogers, that is true. I do apologize but my priority is sir.”

Under his touch, Steve shudders and Tony gathers him close and embraces him. “Calm, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Tony has to concede the point. “No, but it will get better.”

“How?”

It occurs to Tony that the one thing Steve appreciated had been Bucky’s grave, being allowed to grieve. Maybe that it what is missing, maybe Steve really needs to allow himself to fall apart before he can rebuild himself into a 21st century version of himself.

“If you let me, I think I have an idea,” Tony says but doesn’t release Steve. 

He feels the tension in Steve’s body give way to quavers of fear and anxiety. He finds himself shushing Steve, and leading him out of the gym. Before he realizes it, he settles Steve in his bed and quietly unwraps his hands and offers him water before he covers him with a blanket.

“Sleep, we’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Steve’s eyes glisten in the light. “I always wanted to be a good man.”

Without hesitation, Tony says, “You are.”

“I’m not so sure,” Steve says but his body is shutting down, telling him to sleep, and he yawns.

“I’m sure,” Tony says and adds, “Go to sleep.”

He leaves him in the bedroom and tells JARVIS to monitor him. He should be frightened because he thinks the Captain is far more fragile than anyone chanced to guess. Yet, the clues, the way to help him is obvious and clear. Steve has said it more than once. He needs a way out of the past and a ticket to the present.

There’s a process, it’s called grieving. Tony knows about this process, knows about it better than anyone because he left a major chunk of his life behind, said good bye to it. Steve needs to do the same. He needs to mourn.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

Tony walks to his workshop and picks up a wrench to try and release the damaged gauntlet from his right hand. “Get the jet ready for travel.”

“Flight plan, sir?”

“Hawai’i, Oahu.”

“I’ll prepare it, sir. And sir?”

“Yes, bud?”

“I am glad you are all right.”

Tony only smiles.

Interlude VI

_To: Director Fury_  
From: Steve Rogers  
Subject: Vacation 

_Director,  
I would like to apologize for my behavior in Napa Valley. I take full responsibility for my actions. Sir, I would like to request some information. SHIELD has asked me to move to Washington, DC. I would like to know why? I grew up in New York City and would like to stay there. Why are you splitting up and disbanding the Avengers?_

_Sincerely,  
Captain Steve Rogers_

__**Draft – never sent** To: Captain Steve Rogers  
From: Director Fury  
Subject: The Avengers 

_Cap – if you only knew – if you only knew you might not want to be Captain America anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated a LOT about this chapter. I went back and forth about it. But I decided it needed to be written and needed to be written this way because Steve needs someone to see that he's grieving and angry and in denial and all that shit. I would really like to know how you felt about this chapter - and if you want anymore of this story.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the good wishes on my surgery. It went well and I am recovering.


	8. Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter. This part is fairly serious - the fluffiness has evolved to some serious angst.

The weight drags him downward like an anchor or ghosts trapped in a long dead ship. Tony is not prone to needless hyperbole about emotions, yet he isn't the poster boy of honesty when it comes to emotions either. He likes to deny the pain, he needs to bury it. It is part of his definition, his makeup, to just distract and destroy what feelings he might have so that he can move on and continue to put on the right facade for life, and for everyone. After all, Tony lives his life in the public eye; he has for all of his life. He doesn't understand privacy - what he does understand is how to hide. If he can hide from all of the pain, from all of the circumstances, if he can hide it away from himself, then the public doesn't have a chance in hell of ever finding out. 

Usually.

It should be like that now, but he finds his walls, his brick and mortar barricades constructed around the circle of his heart fragment and break. He cannot possibly hope to keep the crumbling walls from toppling over. He should resent the reason for this, he should rail against it. Instead, he brings it closer to him, holds it like it is precious. Because it is - Steve is precious to him.

He understands this, is consumed by this admission, swallowed it down and allowed it to become part of him. He doesn't want to lose Steve, like he's lost so much else in his life. This little foray - the list, the scavenger hunt - had been a lark but it had been seeded in something deeper, the soil in his soul yearns for something to give life to. Steve has become more than that to him. With that understanding, he decided he needed to help Steve from the despair of loss. He saw part of Steve's mourning when he brought him to Bucky's grave, but there is a whole world Steve is mourning for - not just one brother, not just one soldier. It is the loss of everything.

Tony did the only thing he could think of to allow Steve to grieve. He flew Steve thousands of miles over an ocean to the very focal point, the start of the war. He brought Steve to Pearl Harbor. As they walk the museum before heading out to the grave site of the USS Arizona, Steve reminds Tony of a ghost. He reads the plaques, stands in front of the wall of names of the dead sailors with his hands tucked deep in his coat's pockets. He must read every name because they almost miss the presentation, the movie they show of December seventh. But Tony leads him to the auditorium that is in need of an update. They shuffle down the rows of seats and Steve settles down. Steve shoulders close to Tony as they sit, and Tony finds some peace in that gesture. He eases over and touches Steve's hand that lays on the armrest. Without looking from the screen which shows death, and smoke, and ashes, and everything terrible humans can do to one another, Steve threads his fingers into Tony's hand to grasp it lightly. As they watch the beginning of a world war captured on the screen for all to see, Tony looks at Steve and knows he is not here with him, but decades earlier - remembering how it was then, how he felt as his world fell down around him as a young man. 

Tony knows this feeling. 

His generation holds moments and days close as well. He wonders if every generation has their thorn to bear.

Later, after the movie they are ushered to the boat which will bring them to the memorial for the USS Arizona. They are instructed not to speak - that this is a gravesite. No one breaks the rule. Everyone moves aboard as if in some dark fugue of death and memory and moments of sadness seep out of each and every living soul.

Steve holds onto his hand, doesn't let go even when they walk to the boat, even as they motor to the USS Arizona's final resting place. When they walk along the museum perched over the sunken ship, Steve still grasps his hand. He holds on like Tony is his port in the storm of emotions he faces. For one brief moment, Tony wonders if he's miscalculated. Usually, Tony is confident about calculations and figures, but this is not an engineering problem, it has nothing to do with artificial intelligence but has everything to do with the complexities of the matrices of human emotion. Something that Tony finds unfamiliar and foreign at times and, at other times, as a master and enemy to be defeated.

Steve gazes down into the waters of the Pacific, looks at the tears of the USS Arizona still leaking out after all of these years. He stares for an extended time, as if the leaking oil called tears today, might envelop him and bring him back to the time he lost. He nods in an almost serene way and Tony thinks he might have been praying silently. They move off so others can see and Tony watches Steve. Steve remains quiet through the rest of the visit, only speaking minimally and when they take the boat ride to see the rest of the harbor, the stillness of Steve heats a small terror in Tony. Has he miscalculated? Was this the wrong thing to do?

Finally, the visit is over and when Tony gets into his rented Audi and Steve jumps in the passenger side, Tony can only slump into the seat. The heavy emotions press down on him like he is Sysiphus with his rock. He guns the car and pushes it into gear without a word and they are off, driving up the main highway toward the north coast of Oahu. He loves the northern part of the island, because it is less crazy, less filled with the noise and pollution of tourism. They pull into the Turtle Bay resort and he parks the car. Steve stays quiet as they enter the wide open bay of the lobby to the hotel; there are no visible doors. Crossing the lobby to the elevators, Steve follows Tony without a word. 

The breezes from the ocean wind through the lobby. The hotel is one of his favorites since each and every room as an ocean view. The North Shore is famous for its surfing waves, and he thinks maybe he should suggest it for Steve – to get his mind off of things. The beauty of the North Shore is its isolation from the tourist as well as the wild waves of the Pacific. The interesting thing about the North Shore and Turtle Bay, in particular, is the Opana Radar site that sits up on the ridge. It is like an eagle watching all the skies. It watched back on that fateful day in 1941, when Steve was a different man then, when Steve was somehow less – which is something that Tony cannot imagine. 

Tony yanks his mind away from the Opana Radar installation and its tainted history. It saw the incoming invasion, but its reports were summarily discounted or ignored. So much of what we do every day is ignored. Tony doesn’t want to ignore things anymore, especially not the important things.

The elevator rings and they step in with a unified stride. Steve hits the button. They are staying in the penthouse suite. While Steve balked at it, Tony only rolled his eyes. It was hard enough to get Steve to agree to go on another trip. After Steve’s breakdown – after the wrestling match where Steve nearly killed Tony with his bare hands, Steve shut down nearly completely. It took three days to get him to speak again, and even then it was single words here and there.

Tony had been lucky that he agreed to eat without much argument. Because, for Christ’s sakes, how the hell would he explain it to Fury if Captain America starved himself to death on his watch? Steve ate like an automaton but, at least, he ate. After watching this for three days, Tony took the entire situation into his own hands.

He slammed his coffee mug onto the table on the bright morning of the fourth day and said to Steve, “Pack your bags.”

Steve looked up, startled, but not frightened. “If you want me to leave, I will Tony.” He started to stand up, gathered his bowl of cereal and his glass of juice.

“What?”

Steve placed his dirty dishes in the sink and said, “I understand. I appreciate everything you did for me. I really do.” There was a pleading look in his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe Tony would throw him out.

Which, of course, Tony was _not_ doing. “What?”

“You want me to leave, right?”

“Why would you think that?” 

“You just told me to pack my bags,” Steve said and pointed to the mug which had spilt coffee all over the table. 

“I didn’t tell you to leave.” He thought it was obvious. So many times Tony thinks something is obvious to the rest of the world, but then he realizes along the way his thought processes might entail some explanation. 

“Okay.” Steve stood there and waited.

At that point, it dawned on Tony that he hadn’t been all that clear. He went into a ramble about what Steve needed and how they were going to deal with his adjustment, his depression, his separation anxiety, his hypertension. Okay, maybe he went a little overboard on the diagnosis – he’d never been good at psychology and that shit anyway. But he made his point and Steve wasn’t all that happy about it.

Finally Tony had to tell him. “We’re going to Hawai’i whether you like it or not.”

“Why would I need to go to Hawai’i so that I can get over my depression?” Captain America sounded very unCaptain America. It was very obvious that he’d used air quotes around the word depression.

“Because you need to see where this,” Tony waved at Steve entirety. “All began.”

Steve had looked down at himself and frowned. “I’m pretty sure I know where it all began, thanks.”

“Yeah you might, but not like this. You know about it, but you need to mourn it. You need to understand that your memories are the memories of us all, a cultural memory,” Tony had said. None of it was clear, but Tony knew – down to his bones – that Steve needed to touch history, to feel his life still strung together instead of being in broken shards. 

When they arrived Steve gave no leeway to Tony. Scoffed at him and told him he didn’t need a history lesson – he’d been there when the radio announcement came on the attack at Pearl Harbor. 

“I know,” Tony had said and drove them to their hotel on the North Shore. They’d gone directly to bed that night – separate rooms in the penthouse suite. The next morning they went down to the large open restaurant with its slanted windows to the patio and poolside view. As Steve picked off of the breakfast buffet, Tony planned the day. It wouldn’t be anything special other than some sightseeing in Waikiki and then to Pearl Harbor.

Somewhere along the way, Steve must have decided that it would be easier to get the pilgrimage over with instead of griping about it. Part of Tony was pleased with his accomplishment, but the other part distrusted Steve’s turnabout. It seemed like Steve let circumstances overwhelm him like waves eroding the shoreline. He couldn’t fight it, so why bother. Tony hated that attitude on anyone, but especially Steve for some reason. 

In the end, he’d been right. The visit to Pearl Harbor jarred Steve out of his mental cocoon, breaking it open transforming it into sorrow. Now, as the elevator opens and they walk into the penthouse suite, past the butler’s kitchen and the dining room, to the wide airy main room with its rattan furniture and large lazy ceiling fans, Tony knows he’s shredded Steve’s outer defense mechanism. It never occurred to him that it would be his responsibility to rebuild Steve.

Instead of facing the cold truth of it, he crosses the room to open up the shuttered sliding doors to the lanai . He likes to listen to the crash of the ocean waves against the rocky shores of Northern Oahu. There’s a peace here he can’t seem to capture anywhere else. 

Steve doesn’t follow him to the lanai, says nothing, just stands in the middle of the living room. Tony shrugs, he’s made mistakes before, and he can fix this one. He goes to the bar right inside the apartment near the sliding glass doors. He fixes himself a scotch on the rocks and drinks it down. It burns more than usual. 

“You okay, Cap?” He has to say something. The utter silence is horrifying, and Steve’s lack of reaction creeps him out. 

Steve turns to look at Tony as if for the first time he realizes Tony is still in the room. 

“Steve?”

Without hesitation, Steve strides the distance between them, grabs Tony’s tumbler, and tosses it to the side (Tony hears it splatter to the floor). For a second, Tony thinks Steve might take a swing at him, but it isn’t about that at all. Steve crushes his mouth to Tony’s hard and harsh, teeth hitting teeth. There’s nothing sweet and loving about it. It’s about life and death and knowing one is alive. Steve grasps Tony’s face in his hands. He delves deeply with his kiss, plunging in for more, raking every breath out of Tony. 

When Steve comes away for a breath, which happens to be about thirty seconds after Tony needed air, Tony sways in his arms, but it doesn’t matter. Steve grapples with Tony and holds him steady, then without a word, leads Tony toward his bedroom. Still panting from the attack on his mouth, Tony follows along. As they enter the bedroom, Steve turns and pursues another kiss. This time the kiss softens against Tony’s mouth, it is a plea, a wish, and Tony grants it. He isn’t sure when he lost the thread of the story, of what he was doing in Hawai’i in the first place, but this – this is what he knows he’s desired, wanted, hidden down deep in his core. 

He welcomes the onslaught of Steve’s need, the rush of mouths and hands and touching. Though the fire, the pain has subsided, Tony feels the increasing urgency, the want growing like an out of control knot of desire. He groans into the kiss, the kiss that stops and starts and needs and wishes. The kiss brushes lips, wet with saliva down his throat and he leans back, exposing his vulnerable throat to Steve. Steve sucks and kisses and licks as if a poor man at a banquet. 

Even as they continue, he hears Steve murmuring over and again, “Please, Tony, let me, please Tony.” It is a chant because Tony says yes, yes, yes, many times, several times. It doesn’t seem to penetrate the delirium of want pouring off of Steve like the fire of a fever. 

“Anything, Steve,” Tony whispers and Steve continues the muttering as he explores Tony’s throat, as he pulls loose the tie, and unbuttons Tony’s shirt. It comes away easily, and Steve throws it to the side, inching up the t-shirt and tugging it over Tony’s head. He’s kissing Tony’s collar bone, his bicep, glancing his tongue across Tony’s nipples and Tony trembles against the feather light touch. Where the hell did he learn this, how can he know-.

But Tony’s thoughts are all but ash as Steve struggles with Tony’s belt, then buckle, and his pants pool at his feet. He has to keep his brain in gear with the rest of his body. He staggers a step back from Steve, who is kneeling on the floor. Looking up at Tony, Steve opens his mouth as if to question him. Tony only shakes his head and kicks off his pants and boxers. He bends down and catches Steve’s hand in his and they fall onto the bed together. 

For only a moment, they lie side by side – staring at one another in the growing twilight, listening to the lull of the waves beyond the sliding glass doors in the next room. It mesmerizes and soothes, but within Steve’s eyes Tony sees the desire blown wide. 

“Steve,” Tony rasps. His voice sounds ruined and it surprises him that even before they embark on this that he’s wrecked. 

The husky tone of Tony’s voice sets Steve off again and he jumps onto Tony, pressing him down onto the mattress with his full weight. The slight tenderness, the softness he showed disappears and he attacks Tony with a fervor that coils in Tony’s groin tight and painful and he’s so fucking happy he’s lost his pants. As Steve kisses line upon line down his chest, stopping to tug and play with his nipple, to blow lightly the flesh at the edge of the reactor, and then to his navel, he undoes his pants and kicks them free. It occurs to Tony in the rush of need, they haven’t unclothed Steve, but he figures they’ll get to that. The frenzy of Steve’s urgency overcomes everything else and Tony allows himself to be led, instead of being the leader. It is so foreign and strange, Tony relaxes into the role, he becomes pliant in Steve’s capable hands.

He does what Steve wants, follows his signals and he finds himself rutting into Steve’s lubed hand. He’s sure he must have directed Steve where he packed the lube – Tony never leaves home without it – but hell if he remembers. He just wants to come; the need is so intense and tight in his belly. Steve groans next to Tony, and he can feel the heat of Steve near him, touching him, and it sends him over the edge. His body stiffens and he grunts out his climax as Steve strokes him again to milk it out of him. He’s shivering when he comes down from it. 

Steve wipes his hand on the bed linens and climbs up and back onto Tony. “Let me? Please?”

For a second Tony’s not sure what Steve is asking and then it falls into place. It takes more than that to say yes, because Tony isn’t used to it. Yet, for Steve he knows he’ll do anything, anything at all. Before he knows it, Steve has a pillow propped under Tony’s ass and is quietly and tenderly easing his first finger into Tony. His concentration is intense, he doesn’t speak but he strokes and caresses Tony with his other hand. He tries to make it easy – it never is. Tony spreads out his legs and drops his head back, trying to relax into the sensation. By the time Steve has two fingers into him; Tony can feel the piercing pleasure as he hits his prostate again and again. Little whimpers come out of Tony and Steve encourages him with light petting strokes to his arm, his inner thigh. When they progress to a third finger Tony’s thigh muscles are fatigued and tremble and he’s ready, he’s really ready. Finally he hears the condom and the lube again.

Steve breaches him in one firm, perfect stroke. It alarms but doesn’t hurt. Placing hands on each side of bed near Tony, Steve bends over him and fills him, fills him, and fills him. He groans as the thickness stretches him, as it steals his air, as he stiffens. It hurts but in an oddly pleasurable way. Except for his question to be allowed entrance, Steve doesn’t speak again. But his look, his gaze into Tony’s eyes is so concentrated it is hard to keep his eyes on Steve. The intensity is overshadowed though by a bleak understanding, Tony can see it in Steve’s eyes, feel it as he thrusts into Tony. He sees that with each stroke, each jerk of his hips, Steve’s failing, he’s looking for a connection and he cannot seem to make it. The desperation is more terrifying than the black hole in space.

Steve looks to the side and closes his eyes, biting at his lip and grimacing as he finds his rhythm. Tony recognizes what Steve is doing; he’s losing himself in the physical sensation so he doesn’t have to face the emotional wasteland of his life. 

He only has one action he can do. Only one.

Cupping Steve’s head, Tony pulls him down for a kiss and cants his hips to accept Steve. He slides his tongue into Steve’s mouth, explores and offers. Steve moans and Tony grabs his ass and slams Steve further in.

Steve jerks back and blinks, then groans and comes in a wave. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t make a sound, just freezes and opens his mouth in a silent pained scream. He grits his teeth and then collapses on Tony. It takes a moment before he slides out, and removes the condom, another moment before he comes back to Earth. 

He lies next to Tony, staring up at the ceiling, panting and trying to gather his breath. When Tony reaches over to touch him, Steve stays his hand.

“I’m, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?”

Steve sighs and Tony can tell he’s holding the pain back, holding it at bay but just barely. “I’m sorry, Tony. I -.” He stops and sits up, letting his legs dangle over the bed. “I’m sorry.”

Tony straightens and says, “What are you sorry for? What’s the problem?” For one ringing moment, Tony worries that Steve’s upbringing might be rearing its ugly head. “Is this about the gay thing?”

“What?” Steve says and looks over his shoulder at Tony. “Gay? No, no.” He turns back again, not looking at Tony. “I can’t. I have to go.” He stands up and looks for his pants. 

For the first time, Tony realizes he never took his shirt off. 

“What the hell is going on?” Tony says and tries to catch Steve’s hand.

“No, no,” Steve says and yanks out of his reach. “I can’t do this. You don’t understand. I can’t do this with you.”

“Why? I’m not good enough. I was fucking good enough to stick your di-.”

“God damn it, it isn’t about that,” Steve says and Tony knows it is true at that point. He can feel the air prickle with the truth. “I can’t do this with you because I’m not going to be here. I am not going to be here.”

“What?” That makes no sense.

“I can’t be here for you Tony; I can’t be here for anyone. I can go on a damned scavenger hunt for all the modern stuff, that’s all well and good, but the truth is – it’s like I’m an ant trying to understand the human world. I can’t. It is too big for me.”

“I can hel-.”

Steve steps into his pants. “No, no, you can’t. No one can. There’s no magical cure for understanding the twenty-first century. No psychotherapy exists for it. Nothing out there can help me get used to all of this and nothing on this Earth can help me mourn an entire world.” Steve stops, closes his eyes, and then opens them. He is a ruin of emotions. “I’m sorry.”

He walks out the door and doesn’t look back.

INTERLUDE VII  
To: Tony Stark  
From: Steve Rogers  
Subject: Last night

Dear Tony,  
I apologize for my behavior last night. I should have been a gentleman, and I wasn’t. You were kind and thoughtful and brought me to Hawai’i to help me. I only attacked you and never showed my appreciation of what you were trying to do for me. I apologize. 

I plan on catching a commercial flight back to the mainland tonight; I think they call it the red-eye. After, I will catch a flight back to New York. I have to report to SHIELD and then finish my move to Washington D.C.. I hope you will forgive my ill manners and consider me your friend, at least.

Thank you for all the help on the scavenger hunt. It was a lot of fun. 

Sincerely,  
Steve Rogers

PS – You are the only one who seems to understand. Thank you. I wish it could have been something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if anyone is interested in this story anymore. I have two more chapters to write and I hope you will hang on for them. I am scheduled for my next set of treatments next week so while I recuperate I should be able to write. FX!


	9. Ohana

By the time Tony realizes he’s not going to catch up with Steve, it is three days later. The truth pains him but Tony never was one to play around with convincing himself of something stupid and moronic. He admits he’s pissed and angry and hurt and fucked. He wonders whether he fucked up or Steve fucked up, but that becomes inconsequential, when in the middle of a flight from Hawai’i to the mainland, he receives a phone call from Fury.

“What the fuck did you do with Captain America?”

For one horrible moment, Tony thinks Fury might have had some weird ass spy camera in their hotel room and watched as they debauched one another. “What?”

“You fucking lost Captain America, where the hell is he? Is he still with you?”

“Lost? With me? What are you talking about?”

A grumble comes over the line that sounds more like the grinding of gears in a sports car than a man expressing his exasperation. “Let me explain this very delicate situation to you, Stark. Captain America, the icon of all that is good and great about this country, hasn’t reported in. According to our latest information, he was with you. Now, you tell me where Captain America is or we’ll have small talk over doughnuts and coffee again.”

“Is that a threat because I don’t think I want to have doughnuts and coffee with you and your attitude.”

“You will want to entertain my attitude, because we are going discuss Captain America right now, Stark, we will discuss this right now.”

“I don’t have to do anything for you.” Tony considers disconnecting but Fury’s next words stop him.

His voice changes timbre and quiets. “You don’t know where he is?”

Tony pauses, thinks about the last moments before Steve walked out. A blush of shame comes over him, though he doesn’t understand why. He’s not embarrassed at what he did, but maybe he’s a bit humiliated– that Steve left him. He’s not a wilting flower who needs verification of his sexuality, his attractiveness, but having someone walk out on him just as the post-coital glow sets in still hurts like hell.

“Stark? Stark, you still there?”

“Of course, you don’t know where he is?”

“No, he was supposed to show up at SHIELD. He contacted us, told us he would be moving to Washington and then he cut and run.”

“Are you sure he just didn’t go to D.C.?”

“Who do you think you’re playing with Nancy Drew? This ain’t my first time around,” Fury spits. “We had him followed, we knew he was coming back to New York and the agents got on his tail back in L.A. when his plane from Hawai’i – and we will have a long and interesting discussion on that little adventure later - but once his flight landed here, he hightailed it out of the city and managed to lose the agents we assigned him.”

“Doesn’t say much for the premier spy organization of the world, does it?”

“It does say quite a bit about the Captain, Stark, and if you would get your face out of your ass you might realize it.”

Tony holds his breath because he could leave off with a snarky remark and let the wonders of SHIELD figure out what to do next, but this is Steve. Although Steve walked out the door on him, literally loving him and leaving him, Tony knows to the pit of his stomach that it wasn’t done maliciously or spitefully – but out of fear. Tony understands that fear, down to the deepest marrow of his bones. He can feel it.

“I’ll find him. Don’t worry,” he says and disconnects. Leaving it at that is probably not the smartest thing ever. He should have tapped into some of SHIELD’s resources but he has his own network which is ten times better than SHIELD on their best day.

“JARVIS, my man, we have some detective work to do.”

In the end the detective work boiled down to JARVIS informing him that Steve was currently camped out in the main living room of his penthouse apartment in New York. While this seems like a gift, Tony checks and re-checks the data much to JARVIS’ annoyance.

“I assure you, sir, my operations are functioning correctly. I have rung up Doctor Banner to confirm my information.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Tony says as he drinks a tumbler of Scotch. The flight seems to be taking forever. He should have just used the damned suit. 

“Tony?” 

Damn it. “Bruce, my buddy, my bro, how are you doing, sweet cheeks?”

There’s an exasperated huff on the line and then Bruce replies, “Good, things are good. Working on some of the new dynamics for the -.”

“Great, great, really don’t care my fat green boy,” Tony says as he scratches his nose. “Tell me what’s up with soldier boy?”

“Fat?”

“Term of endearment, my Jolly Green Giant. Now, the soldier boy?”

“Steve?”

“Yes, Steve, who the hell else would I be talking about?”

“Rhodes?”

“Rhodey is in the air force and therefore not a soldier boy, but an airman. Yet, I would never be so particular in my speech patterns around the US military. So I do see your point.”

“Tony?”

“Yes?”

“What did you want to know again?” 

His mind stutters for a moment, but he finds his way back fairly quickly. “Hmm, Steve, is Steve there?”

“Here?” Bruce waits for a moment, and then says, “I haven’t been out of the lab all day. I could go and check?”

“Please?” Tony asks.

“I thought he was with you?” Bruce says and Tony can hear him moving through the lab, hitting the code to open the door.

“He was, he left.”

“Did you have a fight? What’s this all about, Tony?” 

Over the phone he hears Bruce enter the elevator and then JARVIS’ calm voice informing Bruce that the elevator will arrive at the main living level of the penthouse in moments. He also hears JARVIS informing Bruce that Steve has not moved. He is still in the main lounge area of the penthouse apartment.

“I’m here, let me check and see what’s going on,” Bruce says and Tony hears the quiet shuffle of Bruce’s loafers on the marble floor. “Steve?”

If there is a response, Tony can’t hear it because Bruce muffles the phone. “JARVIS, patch me through.”

“Yes, sir.”

On his smartphone screen he witnesses Steve sitting on the couch, his hand tightly clenching something and his eyes lowered, not looking at Bruce who is standing over him. 

“Steve?” Bruce tries again. 

Tony doesn’t pick up a response, he has only one recourse. “JARVIS, tell me what’s going on?” 

The phone switches over to his A.I. “Captain Rogers appears to be unresponsive.”

“What? Christ,” Tony mutters. He hits the flash and immediately connects with Bruce again. “Bruce, what the hell is going on?”

“He’s sitting here with a bag of Cracker Jack and staring into space, Tony. I don- I think he- I don’t think he’s well.”

“Ya think?” Tony rubs his forehead and can’t but notice how his hands tremble. When did this idiot, this throw back to the forties and his father become so fucking important to him? “Bruce, keep him there.”

“At this point, Tony, I’m not letting him out of my sight.” There’s a subtle rumble in Bruce’s tone, which threatens the other guy but at the same time shows an impressive amount of control. “How far out are you?”

“Too far,” Tony says with a curse on his lips and then he realizes, he can get there sooner, faster, and slightly more dangerously. When did the threat of risk and death ever stop him? “Bruce, talk to you soon?”

He hits the intercom on the jet. “Captain, I’m gonna need you to let me out of this bucket.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“That’s what I said, batten down the hatches, because Iron Man’s gonna fly.”

It takes a little more than that, but he digs out the suitcase armor, which isn’t his best, but, hell, it’s better than dropping out of a plane with just a parachute especially since he has places to go. Once everyone is secure, he’s able to get out of the plane with a safety hatch he installed. Of course, he can get out of his personal jet as Iron Man – it would be ridiculous if he couldn’t. As he clears the safety hatch, it closes up, and he streaks through the sky.

“Give me a trajectory to New York and the Tower, JARVIS.”

“I have already calculated your course, sir.”

“ETA?”

“Your estimated time of arrival will be eighty two minutes, sir, since this suit does not have your latest upgrades to the thrusters and staged boost motor ignition.”

“Remind me to upgrade this piece of shit suit, JARVIS,” Tony mutters and forces the thrusters to their maximum capacity. “Where the hell is Thor when you need him?”

“I believe the God of Thunder is still on Asgard, sir.”

“Rhetorical, JARVIS, we’re going to have to upgrade your interpersonal skills if you can’t figure that one out.”

“You may need to upgrade your own inter-intelligence skills, sir, if you can’t figure out that I was being sarcastic.”

“Smart ass.”

“Once again, sir, I have no ass.”

Tony rolls his eyes and realizes JARVIS is trying to keep his mind off of Steve. Over the course of the next hour, Tony checks up on Steve by calling Bruce or by interfacing with JARVIS. Repeated attempts to call Steve fail. According to JARVIS, Steve is sitting statue like in the main living room with a small open bag of Cracker Jacks in his hands. None of Bruce’s attempts to elicit a response have succeeded. 

Several cups of tea, plates of food have been laid out on the table near the couch, but Steve sits stock still as if the ice has taken over again.

During the flight, Tony decides he has to do one thing – and that’s call in the troops but not someone that Steve would feel uncomfortable in knowing they were privy to his state. He rings up Pepper.

“Tony?”

“Yeah, yeah, can I ask you something?”

“I’m not sure, what’s this about? Is New York being attacked again?” She sounds exhausted and he instantly feels guilty. He never feels right about how he’s treated her, like a well-used shoe, loved but never looked after, never polished, never appreciated. 

“No, no, New York is fine. No, it’s not fine. Pepper, listen I need a favor.”

“What is it this time?”

“Do we have to do _this time_ again?” he asks. He knows he shouldn’t – he really doesn’t have space to call her out on her attitude.

Of course, she is eloquent when she replies, “No, we don’t, you’re right. What do you need?”

“Listen, I’m sorry, I’m just running out of time and I need advice from someone I respect and know is brilliant in these things.”

“Always a charmer, what can I do for you?”

He takes in a heavy breath, holds it, and then releases it before he confesses. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, and I am not bragging, but I need your help and I don’t know anyone else who might be able to give me any real advice, but maybe Doctor Phil and he’s not even a real doctor and his Master’s degree is in some kind of Nutrition major or some shit.”

“Tony.” Her voice has that sing song warning to it. He’s going off the deep end. She’s fishing him out of the sea again.

“Okay, okay, I slept with Steve.”

“Steve from accounting?”

He spits up a little in the HUD. “Christ, no, I don’t even know we had a Steve in accounting. I’m talking about the man of the hour, the man out of time, I’m talking about Captain America.”

“Well, that’s every single one of your boyhood fantasies come to life,” she says with a little bit of glee to it.

“What?”

“Nevermind, what’s the problem?”

“He left,” Tony says and realizes how that sounds and backpedals almost immediately. “I think he’s not good. He’s been battling these demons for ages and ages. Like he’s not attached to anything here and no matter what we have on this list for him to seek out and find; it doesn’t matter. So I slept with him.”

“So you thought healing cock would help him. How’d that turn out?”

“Not good.” 

“Not a surprise,” she says. “I’ve no idea why men think that sleeping with someone rights all the wrongs in the world.”

“It doesn’t?” Honestly, he knows better, but this is Pepper and he loves her and she loves him – just in a different way.

“Stop,” she says and there is lightness and air. “Go ahead.”

“Well, to be more accurate about it, he took me to bed, and then after he left.”

“Oh Tony-.”

“No, no, no, don’t oh Tony me.” He checks his trajectory and notes he isn’t far off now. “I get it. I was on the other end of the stick this time, but not.”

“Not?”

“No, I honestly think he’s in bad shape, actually I know he’s in bad shape, terrible shape. Bruce tells me he’s sitting catatonic on my couch right now in New York City.” Tony sighs. “I don’t know what to do, Pepper, what do I do?”

“Talk to him,” Pepper says. “You said he’s looking for something, for some kind of attachment. Talk to him and catch him. He’s falling, Tony, faster and harder than anyone you know. Catching him, hold on to him. If Captain Rogers took you to bed, he did it for a reason. From what I understand, he’s a man of honor. He did it for a reason, Tony.”

“A reason,” Tony mimics and then says, “Pepper, I love you.”

“Always, now, go be a hero.”

He snickers and disconnects. “JARVIS?”

“Fifteen minutes out, Doctor Banner reports no activity from Captain Rogers.”

“Thanks. Let’s bring this puppy home.”

As he lands on the pad and the rings descend around him to remove the armor, he immediately spots Steve on the couch with a crushed bag of Cracker Jack in his hands. He walks the ramp way to the main room, checks on Steve, and then lightly settles down on the table, pushing aside the plates and cups placed there by Bruce. 

Looking up, he sees Bruce to the side near the bar with his arms crossed over his chest. Tony raises two fingers and Bruce nods, exiting the room.

“Cracker Jack, what ? You want to go to a baseball game?” Tony says.

No response.

Tony reaches out and tries to grab the small bag. Steve clutches it to his chest. “Steve, you’re either going to talk to me, or I’m going to call up SHIELD. Every single one of their psychiatrists are going to barge in here, prick you full of holes as they try to sedate you, and then wrap you in a jacket and lock you up in the bowels of their deepest hell. Now, talk.”

Steve bows his head and looks at the Cracker Jack. “It’s so small.”

“What?”

He opens his hands and drops the bag on Tony’s lap. “It’s so small.”

“The Cracker Jack?” How could a snack be such a big deal?

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Then he leans forward with elbows on knees and drops his hands. He looks wretched. “Back in the day, back then it came in these waxed sealed packages, special packages. They had the best toys and peanuts, lots of peanuts.”

“Back in my day the package was a cardboard box,” Tony says, remembering how his mother would buy him a box and he’d munch on it when she went shopping on Fifth Avenue – down the street from their house. He would eat it, stuffing it in, hoping for a Captain America toy.

“It was a big bag, you know, and they had tin toys or sometimes even baseball cards. We’d save up all our pennies to buy them, hoping to get a good toy. I always wanted the baseball cards,” Steve says as he hangs his head down, staring at the floor. 

Tony picks up the small bag and looks in it. It is empty. “Not the same?”

“No, not even the damned popcorn tasted the same. The toy was this,” Steve says and shoves his hand in his pocket to retrieve a small square piece of waxed paper that is slightly larger than a postage stamp. It has a picture of Mjolnir on it. “That’s it, a stupid picture of Thor’s hammer.”

“Yeah, pretty cheap.”

“Horribly,” Steve says and looks up at the ceiling. For the first time, Tony glimpses his eyes and sees the glimmer of tears in them. “It stinks, everything, even the damned Cracker Jack is different.”

Tony straightens out the bag, he doesn’t know what to say, he only knows what Pepper told him. He puts the bag down and takes the little square picture of Mjolnir out of Steve’s hand. “Not even a good picture of it.”

“No,” Steve says and laughs. “It stinks, it’s awful.”

“Maybe I should buy the company and change it back,” Tony says.

Steve glances up at him and frowns.

Tony puts his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, you can’t solve everything with money. I’m not an idiot.”

“No, I heard you were a genius.”

“Sometimes.”

“Then why can’t you fix me?” Steve says, and his voice is earnest and imploring all at once.

“How would you like me to fix you, Steve?” Because it is a real question, Steve thinks he’s broken and Tony has to find out what’s wrong in order to fix it. He has to run the diagnostics. 

Steve straightens and places both hands on each side of his head. For a second, Tony thinks he might crush his own skull, but instead he stops and drops his hands. “There’s no way, unless you figured out how to do a time machine like H.G. Wells?”

“Sorry, but no, not yet.” Tony smiles. He reaches across the expanse. It isn’t far their knees are nearly touching. When Steve doesn’t back away, when he lets Tony grasps his hand, Tony counts it as a win. “Tell me, Steve.”

“I shouldn’t have done what I did.” Steve stares down at their clasped hands. “I should have just dealt with it. But I needed to feel something, anything other than that, that-.” He stops and swallows almost convulsively.

“That big open hole in your chest?”

He shudders out a breath and says, “God, yes, yes. That is all I have felt for weeks, months. Sure the aliens, that helped. I’d only just been thawed and everything was like bright and shining in my face.”

“Kind of like in shock.”

“Yeah, yeah, I jumped in and figured it would all sort itself out. But, no, it didn’t – it just got bigger and brighter, like a 1000 watt bulb in my face. I can’t sort it out; I can’t see to sort it out. And all I can feel is.” Steve taps his chest with his other hand. “Is this hole in my chest. It’s there, and I can’t fill it.”

“You thought you could fill it with me?” Tony hates to ask this, he hates to think about being just filler.

“I wanted to feel something else, other than it.” Steve murmurs. “I wanted to take a chance and feel you. Touch you, be with you.”

“And it didn’t work?” Tony’s chest cracks open, floods open, until he’s drowning. 

“No, no, it did. It worked too well. I could feel, this, you. And I-.” Steve turns his head away. “And I knew at that moment, I couldn’t do it. I could never do it.”

“Never do what?”

“Get attached again,” Steve says and faces him. “I can never learn modern day stuff; I can never become part of this place. I can never love again because I’ll just lose it all.”

“No, no, you won’t.”

“Yeah, I will. I can’t chance it. I can’t do that, not to you, not to me. I can’t live like that,” Steve says. “I can’t become something different with each generation like the damned Cracker Jack popcorn. I can’t be anything for this age. If I get attached, if I become what this modern world would make me, what is left of me?”

“We all change throughout our lives, Steve. It’s a natural process,” Tony says and wants to throttle him. 

“Nothing about me is natural,” Steve says and then whispers to add, “Came out of a bottle.”

The blow hits Tony hard and cruel in his gut but he bites back his retort. He reminds himself that Steve’s hurting, is being stupid and is better than that. Plus, he has to admit the words they both said to one another on the Helicarrier were equally nasty. 

“What’s not natural?” Tony says. Picking up his hand and pinching Steve’s thick muscle, he says, “What this? This muscle? This, how about this one?” He squeezes Steve’s thigh. “That all fake, huh? Everything about you is just this.” He touches Steve’s chest. “Just the serum induced muscle – that’s all there is to Steve Rogers.”

Steve remains silent.

“Oh, here’s a good one,” Tony says and releases Steve’s hand and struggles out of his shirt and pulls his t-shirt over his head. “How about this?” He points to the arc reactor. “Maybe this is all I am, a man with a hole in my chest, a literal hole in my chest. Maybe that’s all I am, and maybe that’s all people will think of me.” He triggers the release button and the arc reactor pops out. He slides it out of place and offers it to Steve. “There, take it.”

Steve watches him and a mixture of shock and fascination. His eyes widen and his mouth gapes. 

“I said, take it.”

“No, put it back.”

“Why? All I am is the suit and this, right? Nothing more to being Iron Man than a cheap trick or two, right – well, not cheap but you get the picture. Take it.”

“No, you’ll die without it,” Steve says and literally starts to push Tony’s hand back toward his chest. “Put it back, please.”

“Why? I’m nothing but this and the suit, right?”

“No, God, Tony, no, what the hell are you doing? Put it back,” he demands. 

Tony pushes the arc reactor into the slot and clicks it into place. “Now, tell me why you want to save me and I can’t save you?”

“Wh-what?” Steve says and in his eyes something dawns.

“There you go, you got it, soldier boy,” Tony says and smiles. “If you get to save me, if you get to try and save the God damned world over and again.” Tony stands up and hovers over Steve. “If you get to fly a damned fucking plane into the ocean to save this screwed up fucking world, then Steve Rogers, you are worth saving, too. Don’t tell the rest of us that you’re not natural, that you don’t deserve to have a life with attachments, and all that glorious bullshit that comes with attachments. 

“I’m afraid to tell you, Captain America, but this is your life. Get with the program, you are here and now and, who the fuck cares about Cracker Jack. You make your damned attachments, you change as much or as little as you want, because we are here, I am here for you. I want you as you are, an adorable, slightly prickish, dork. You get that?” Tony heaves in a breath and says, “Damn it, I need a drink.”

When Steve doesn’t answer just keeps staring at Tony, he leaves and goes to the bar to prepare himself a Scotch. He pours two fingers, swigs it down, and then pours another two to top it off. 

“You know, you’re pretty terrible at this,” Steve says.

“Yeah, I know.” Tony shrugs. 

“But it’s good, it’s better than what I’ve heard before – all the pleasantries and the fake psychobabble.”

“Oh that wasn’t fake psychobabble, that was horrifyingly psychobabble at its best.” Tony sips the drink, decides to make Steve one and does. When he hands it to Steve, he doesn’t protest, doesn’t talk about how it won’t have any effect.

“To psychobabble,” Tony says and lifts his glass.

“No,” Steve says. “To you.”

Tony quirks a brow, silently agrees, and then clinks his glass against Steve’s. They drink.

“Thanks,” Steve says.

“You’re welcome.”

“That was still pretty appalling.”

“I planned it that way,” Tony says. “What now?” He has to ask because he can’t stand not knowing.

“Can I stay?”

“For however long you want,” Tony says and hopes that it means more than just a buddy flophouse deal.

Steve nods and settles back onto the couch. He cups the glass and leans forward again. “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony sits next to him and says, “Stay as long as you want, but I hope you’ll stick around for more than the alcohol.”

“What? Do you have more Cracker Jack?” 

Tony chuckles. “You jerk.”

“Brilliant, they call you brilliant and that’s your comeback?”

“Give me a break; I’ve had a rough couple of weeks.” Tony puts his drink on the table and slumps against the cushions.

Steve follows his lead. “Me, too.”

“Wanna watch a movie?” Tony asks because he just cannot broach the subject of who they are to one another, not yet, not entirely.

“Sure,” Steve says and spreads out with his arm to loop over the back of the couch. “As long as it’s not a war movie or anything you think will help me acclimate. I am done with that. So done.”

Tony smiles. “Okay then, JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Pull up _Lilo and Stitch_ for the good Captain and get some popcorn going.”

“Yes sir.”

“What’s it about?” Steve asks.

“It’ll be good for you; it’s about an alien invasion, but the good kind.”

“I didn’t think there was a good kind,” Steve says and doesn’t move away when Tony notches himself right under Steve’s arm. 

“Oh there is, wait until you see it.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

Tony completely forgets about the popcorn and wakes up hours later snuggled against a sleeping Captain America.

INTERLUDE VIII 

To: Steve Rogers  
From: Director Nick Fury  
Subject: Washington DC move

Dear Captain Rogers,  
According to my sources, you have taken up residence in that butt ugly Tower in New York with Stark. Do you or do you not want your position at SHIELD? You are to report immediately to SHIELD headquarters in DC. We are currently in need of your services, and tell Stark he is not hogging you.

Fury.

To: Director Fury  
From: Steve Rogers  
Subject: Washington DC move.

Dear Director Fury,  
My boyfriend can hog me all he wants. Send all information to my current address at that butt ugly Tower in New York.

Sincerely,  
Captain Steve Rogers


	10. The Bucket List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning age and death are discussed.

“You’ll do fine,” he whispers and the night draws colder still. He thinks back, remembering a time when holding Steve had been brand new, recalling a time when he worried every action or reaction he had might be held against him, might shatter and crumble this thing they had started. He hadn’t known yet, that they’d begun a friendship, a partnership, a relationship that would stand the test of time, that would be his one true center, his one true love.

He’d only known the faults and breaks and missteps, yet in the end it worked. He thinks upon the start, about how it all surprised him…….

…….Tony looks up and standing in the center of his lab, one eyebrow cocked over a black leather eye patch, stands Director Fury himself, the actual epicenter of all things of annoyance in Tony’s life. He drops the tool and flicks up his safety glasses.

“I thought you were in Washington.”

“You thought wrong.”

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir, I understand, sir, we will have a conversation about how I could allow the devil into your inner sanctuary after which you will threaten to delete some of my subroutines.”

Tony rolls his eyes and sighs. “Just so we’re clear.”

“Perfectly, sir.”

To Fury, Tony says, “What do you want?”

Fury walks over to the bench, pulls out a folded piece of paper, and places it in front of Tony. Tony eyes it, it has been folded, yes, but it was obviously crumpled up at one time, as if the person who printed it was driven to express their frustration, anger, aggravation by balling it up. Tony reaches out and unfolds the paper. It is a print out of an email string.

He reads it.

_To: Steve Rogers_  
From: Director Nick Fury  
Subject: Washington DC move 

_Dear Captain Rogers,  
According to my sources, you have taken up residence in that butt ugly Tower in New York with Stark. Do you or do you not want your position at SHIELD? You are to report immediately to SHIELD headquarters in DC. We are currently in need of your services, and tell Stark he is not hogging you._

_Fury._

_To: Director Fury_  
From: Steve Rogers  
Subject: Washington DC move. 

_Dear Director Fury,  
My boyfriend can hog me all he wants. Send all information to my current address at that butt ugly Tower in New York._

_Sincerely,  
Captain Steve Rogers_

“You mind explaining to me what in the hell the Captain is referring to?”

“Is this the gay thing, because that is so yesterday. I mean Captain America is with it, I would think you would, you know, accept modern revelations.” He tugs off the safety goggles and tosses them to the side.

“Modern revelations, how about this modern revelation. Tony Stark as Captain America’s boyfriend? How the hell am I supposed to deal with that and the World Security Council.”

“Let me explain something to you, Lucy. That group of eggheads who wanted to nuke New York don’t hold no water with me. They can go fuck themselves. However, Steve wants to refer to me is my business and Steve’s. Not yours, not theirs, not anyone else’s, get that?” Tony waits.

Fury glowers at him, but puts his hands behind his back and considers what Tony stated. “You hurt him, I cannot protect you.”

“I didn’t know you cared about me.”

“I don’t.” Fury turns on his heel and exits without another word, leaving Tony with the print out of the email string.

He stares down at it - _boyfriend_.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Where’s Steve?”

“Captain Rogers is currently in the kitchen of the penthouse serving lunch.” 

Tony spins around looking at the ceiling. “Um, serving lunch? To whom?

“Captain Rogers has guests, sir. Agent Barton and Romanoff are attending a luncheon.”

“A luncheon, what the hell is this – a tea party for old ladies? The next thing you know they’ll be playing mahjong.” Tony folds up the email printout, stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans. He’s a little put out considering Steve spiraled into the depths of hell just days ago, and now he’s entertaining. It sounds like avoidance to Tony, and he would know, he is the kind of avoidance behavior. How many years and how many people did he fuck during his twenties and thirties trying to escape thinking about the hollow pit in his soul?

“Time to face the music, Captain America,” he whispers and then to JARVIS he says, “Let’s hitch ‘em up and ride.”

“Sir?”

“Just open the elevator doors and bring me to the penthouse, please.”

“Yes, sir. It is always a pleasure to listen to you try out your American cowboy theme.”

“Shut it.”

“The doors are closing now, sir.”

Tony wonders how much snark is too much to program into an artificial intelligence. As the elevator ascends to the main living space of his penthouse apartment in the Tower, Tony considers the last days with Steve. It hasn’t been all rainbows and flowers, and, in fact, reminds Tony of a boxing match. Not that Steve and he came to blows, but fighting off Steve’s demons hadn’t been an exercise in knitting – only if knitting consisted of plunging the needles neck deep into the horrors and watching the blood spurt out.

Tony’s fairly certain he’s over exaggerating in his head, but, at the same time, he’s been there in the late nights listening to the cool, deep voice of Captain America as he retells the memories of the Howling Commandos, as he mourns the loss of his boyhood friend – who, for him, only just died, and watched as Steve shuddered at the memories of the plane hitting the water.

“I remember things about it,” Steve had said.

“About it?”

They were sitting in Tony’s lab, it was late, too late to be awake, but Tony had been working on armor upgrades and Steve had been haunted. They found peace in one another.

“The plane, you know, the plane crashing.”

Tony set aside the calibrator and ambled over to lean against the edge of the bench, waiting for Steve to continue. 

“I had been talking to Peggy,” Steve said and his eyes looked far away and his expression softened to a tenderness that can only be explained by love. “We were going to go dancing.” He laughs a little but it is gentle. “Didn’t want to step on her feet.” He had been looking down at his hands, lying useless in his lap. “The plane hit the ice. At first, it was just a rush of water and cold and pressure. There wasn’t any one detail I can remember.”

Tony drifted closer then, sitting on the arm of the couch Steve was perched on. As Steve spoke, it felt as if the weight of his words acquired a force like gravity from a black hole drawing him in, pulling him down, removing any light or hope or spirit leaving only the singularity of truth.

“Not at first, I can’t remember all of the immediacy of the crash, but I was thrown free of the pilot’s seat,” Steve had said. “I tried to get out, I tried. I remember, but the rush of the water, the pressure of it. My injuries. It was too hard and the water -. It compressed everything, and I couldn’t break free of it.”

“Why, why are you talking about this now?” Tony asked, because he needed to understand the root of it, needed to dig down and figure out how to help Steve.

Steve had shrugged then, looking at his empty hands. “Maybe, because it felt right to tell you, maybe because that feeling like something is sitting on my chest – it’s what I feel a lot now. When I look around and see everything that is so different, yet the same, I get this tightness in my chest, pushing down, pushing me down and I wonder if it’s just the water, if I’m really only alive in that moment.”

Tony slipped down off the arm of the couch and wrapped his arms around Steve, lying his head on Steve’s shoulder. “This isn’t the water, this isn’t the Arctic.”

Steve exhaled, long and sweet. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Tony nuzzled against Steve’s throat, but recalled Pepper’s words that fucking someone wasn’t always the answer. He needed heed those words and take this slowly, draw Steve out, and allow him to stabilize, find his balance in this world. He cupped Steve’s jaw and guided him to Tony’s shoulder. They’d sat like that for some time, Steve rhythmically breathing, Tony stroking through his hair. It felt more right than anything Tony had done before, more intimate, more comfortable. 

He closes off the memories as the lift opens and he exits to venture toward the kitchen. There, he finds Steve serving bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches to Clint and Natasha. He’s talking, open and easy. He’d never know that Steve has cracks, and broken places.

“Tomatoes definitely.” Steve says. “They don’t taste anything like what I remember.”

“Yeah, they kind of taste like crap,” Clint says.

“More like soft cold cardboard,” Natasha chimes in. 

“They used to have such a rich taste, we didn’t get them too often, but Ma would get seeds and plant them in these buckets on the fire escape to our apartment in Brooklyn. We’d have fresh tomatoes every summer.” Steve places a pickle jar on the table and sits down. He has two large sandwiches in front of him. Both Natasha and Clint are halfway done with their meal. When Tony enters, Steve pops back up and says, “Do you want a sandwich? There’s more than enough bacon.”

Tony waves him off and eyes the wonder twin spies. He needs them gone. “Fury called.”

“He did not,” Natasha says and continues to eat her sandwich as Clint reaches for the pickles.

“I poisoned the pickles with motor oil,” Tony says.

Clint only scoffs at him and twists the jar open, fishes out two with his finger, and munches on them. Well, if they weren’t poisoned before, they are surely contaminated now.

Steve is frowning at Tony as he prepares another sandwich. He cuts it on the diagonal, and then puts it on the table. “Your sandwich.”

“I don’t want a sandwich.”

“Sure you do,” Natasha says and pulls out her phone.

Tony doesn’t ask what the hell she looks up on a smartphone, that’s just too scary to think about or consider. He concentrates on the sandwich instead, and picks it apart to pull out the bacon and crunch it.

“Who doesn’t like bacon?” Steve asks.

“Stop trying to be modern,” Tony says into his plate. He wants Natasha and Clint gone, he has questions to ask, things to do, a boyfriend to debauch. Apparently.

As Tony peals apart the sandwich and picks up the bacon, Steve and his little lunch mates discuss the latest strategies. They continue this for a half hour during which time Tony thinks his back pocket might explode with the little email string paper in it. Finally Clint’s phone buzzes and he grunts into it, listening to the caller. 

“Come on Nat, gotta go.” He stands and shoves the phone back into his leather pants. Tony wonders how the hell he has any sperm left at all considering how tight and hot those pants must be on his balls.

Blinking a few times, he decides he needs to clear his head – he does not want to visualize Hawkeye’s hairy balls. But, nope, there he is visualizing balls. He pukes a little in his mouth. Before he says anything, both Natasha and Clint disappear and he’s left with the good Captain as he finishes his meal.

“Don’t you like it? I could cook something else?”

He looks down at his deconstructed sandwich. He hasn’t actually eaten any of it, yet. “No, no. I don’t want anything. What were the two amigos doing here?”

Steve glances over his shoulder to the hall where they exited and shrugs. “I think SHIELD has them checking up on me.”

“Checking up?”

Steve nods. “I think I’m on the watch list because they think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with you?” Tony asks before he has a moment to even think about where he’s treading.

Steve drops the last of the crusts onto his plate and his shoulder slump. “I don’t think, I don’t know, though, I’m not the one with the degrees.”

“Well, you don’t need degrees or fancy ass papers on the wall to know how you feel.”

“I feel like a fish out of water, but how else should I feel?”

“Exactly,” Tony say and leans forward, arms on the table, stretching to meet Steve. “If you had easily, without any hiccups along the way, acclimated to a seventy year shift in your reality, I would think you were either entirely insane or, maybe, some kind of clone or alien or something.”

Steve purses his lips before saying, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“There’s no supposing, I am right. I am a genius, you know.”

“Not in the psychological stuff,” Steve says. 

“You’re not wrong, there. But I hang around a lot with Bruce and Pepper; it kind of rubs off a little, every now and again.”

Steve smiles and it is like rich chocolate, smooth and easy and delicious. “Every now and again.”

“There you go,” Tony says and reaches into his back pocket to retrieve the print-out. He unfolds it carefully as if it is a precious artifact from days gone by. Flattening it, he pushes it across the table and points to it. “What’s this all about?”

Steve examines the paper and, as Tony watches, his eyes grow bigger and his face reddens. “You weren’t supposed to see this. Did you hack Fury’s mail? Tell me you’re not spying on me, Tony, because this is a breach. For Pete’s sake, give a guy some privacy.”

Even as Steve stands up and gathers up the dishes, cleaning them of the food and tossing the leavings in the garbage, Tony halts him. “No, no, no, I did not hack anything. Well, I have hacked in the past, multiple times really, but no, I did not hack Fury’s mail. Should I?”

“What?” Steve has an arm load of plates and cups he carts over to the sink. Placing them in the sink, he turns around, grabs the counter and waits. “What are you talking about?”

“The email, the print-out, Fury came over and gave that to me. He wanted to know what the heck is going on with you.”

“Fury gave this to you?” Steve crosses the room, takes the paper and holds it as if he might shred it. All Tony wants to do is get it out of Steve’s hands before he rips it. “He should never. He is spying on me.”

“Spy organization, kind of par for the course.”

“What?”

“What else did you expect; he is going to find out everything about you. That’s what they do. That’s why they had the wonder twins over here checking you out while Fury bobbed for apples with me. They want to figure out where your head is.”

Steve drops his hands, but still clutches the paper. His head bowed, he shakes it, and says, “I should have expected it. But then-.”

“But?”

“I don’t even know where my head is.”

Slowly, Tony tugs the paper away from Steve. “This, this says I’m your boyfriend.” He peers downward trying to get a glimpse of Steve’s hidden expression. Though they’ve slept together the one time, they haven’t since. They’ve mainly hung out together, cuddled a bit, and nothing else. Tony didn’t want to overstep because he’s wary of where Steve wants to go with this nascent relationship. 

“Yeah,” Steve says to the floor.

“Are we, then?”

Steve looks up; his eyes are piercing, not frightened, not ashamed, but seeking. “Do you want to be? I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness considering what I did when we were together that one time, but I’d love it if you’d give me another chance.”

“Oh baby, you can have all the chances in the fucking world.” Tony launches himself at Steve, who barely catches him as they tumble to the floor in a fit of legs and arms. He hears a distinctive smack as Steve’s head hits the tiled floor.

Rolling off as quickly as possible considering the tangle of their limbs, Tony hovers over Steve. “Shit, are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

Steve rubs at the back of his head and sits up, one knee bend, the other leg stretched out. He perches an arm on his bent knee and looks at Tony. “I take that as a yes?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to make Captain America into a liar.” He scoops up the paper and smiles. “Can we give things another try?”

“I’d really like that, Tony, but-.”

“Another but and not the good kind.”

“But I’m not one hundred percent. Things are still messed up; it’ll take a while before I’m fit.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t form relationships,” Tony says. “It means you suck like the rest of us, that you have weaknesses and troubles. And you have an Achilles’ heel. It’s fine to need attachments and to ask people to help. Believe me, it took me years to understand that.”

“And I constantly have to remind him of it, Captain Rogers.”

“JARVIS,” Tony says in warning.

“Yes, sir. I will be ready for your berating once you are finished with your current task.”

“You know it is a little disturbing that JARVIS is like your alter ego.”

“He isn’t just like my alter ego,” Tony mutters and stands up, offering a hand to Steve but knowing full well there’s really not much he can do to help the super soldier to his feet. Steve takes the hand anyway and climbs to his feet.

“So, where do we begin?” Steve asks….

It starts like that a simple question, where do we begin. Setting in motion a love affair isn’t an easy task and Tony knows this, he understands it more than people would give him credit for. He’s fallen down on the task many more times than he can count. Yet, people don’t get that when he does fall and fail, he never gives up, he never forgets. He processes and learns from his mistakes. It might take him time to accept the missteps he’s made, it might take him years to undo the mental anguish he’s put himself through, but, after all is said and done, he is a genius and knows how to fix things with an expertise others can only amaze at.

They begin until it ends……

THE LAST INTERLUDE

“It scares me, Tony.” Steve sits on the bed with his back to Tony. He faces the window; gazing out at the great expanse of the cityscape with it ridged back mountains of steel and girders. 

He reaches out a hand to Steve, and strokes his back. “I said, you’ll do fine.”

Steve peers over his shoulder and smiles in that soft, almost innocent way he has always had that has charmed Tony for all the years of their marriage. Tony glimpses slightest hint of gray at Steve’s temples, the only sign in all the decades of his age. 

“Maybe you should write out a bucket list,” Tony says and tries to hoist himself up, but he can’t because his limbs are weak with age, and he’s not a super soldier, and not even he could replicate the formula. Steve leans back into the bed and helps Tony sit propped up against pillows. Age snuck up on him, somehow.

“I don’t want a bucket list, I want you.”

“You have me,” Tony says and Steve mercifully doesn’t ask _but for how much longer?_ “You remember, all those years ago when you first tried to acclimate to modern life in the 21st century?”

“Hmm,” Steve says and sidles close to Tony. 

“SHIELD had that scavenger list for you?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles as he adjusts the blankets on Tony’s lap; even in a climate controlled room the cold still eats at his bones and Steve knows this, recognizes it, and, after all these years, still sympathizes with the malady. 

“You know the list you were doing, I changed it.”

“You changed it?” 

“Yes, I hacked into SHIELD and changed it.”

“Why would you do that?” Steve asks and he folds his hand over Tony’s.

He shrugs. “Bruce said it was because I wanted to get laid.”

“He did not,” Steve says and there’s a melancholy in his voice that can only come from losses remembered but not spoken.

Tony chuckles. “No, no he didn’t but he inferred.” He looks into the past, through the shadows of the room, recalls all the moments, the good ones, the heated ones, the passionate ones, the lovely ones. He’s made a life of moments that grew from a list, it strung together like paper dolls, but not. Because each moment is different and perfect in its structure. He’s loved and been loved. They’ve raised a family together and have grandchildren. He’s happy. “You’ll do fine.”

“Not without you,” Steve whispers and stares down at their intertwined hands.

“Who says I’m going first?” Tony jokes, but it falls hard and heavy in the room. 

Leaning over, Steve kisses Tony’s temple. “You know, I knew you’d changed the list.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I knew you did. I had the original list, but then a new list came in without explanation. I kind of figured it out when you showed up at the coffee shop.”

“And you never let on, all these years, you never let on?”

Steve lowers his head as if ashamed but then Tony realizes he’s soundlessly laughing. “You seemed so proud of yourself about it.”

“You know, you are a very sneaky man, Captain America. I expected more from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Steve wipes away the tears. “I especially loved it when you told Peter about the list and then made him vow never to tell me that you switched them.”

“What the- did he tell you that?” Tony frowns. Peter always did have a soft spot for his Papa.

“Don’t blame the kid, he was trying to get out of being grounded or something for being Spiderman or some crap, I don’t remember. So he used that as leverage.”

Tony throws his head back and sighs. “I’ve been played by my whole family. All these years, what’s an old man to think? No one respects the elderly anymore.”

“Everyone respect you, Tony,” Steve says and his voice drops low and his eyes don’t meet Tony’s. “Don’t leave me. What am I doing to do without you?”

“You’ll do fine. Besides, I made you another list.”

“What?” Steve looks up and Tony opens his hand and flicks it. A virtual screen appears hovering over them as they sit on the bed. “I knew you wouldn’t do the bucket list, so I made one for you. I want you to go out and do all of these things and then report back to me. Except for the very last one.”

Steve scrolls to it, but it is blanked out. “What is it?”

“You open that one when I am gone.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Tony.”

“What love?” 

Steve curls into his side and Tony bends over him. He knows all lists end, all things end. He hates to say goodbye, but in the end he will need to. He’s made all the preparations, he’s upgraded JARVIS to upgrade himself and take care of Steve and their family. It will be some time before Tony leaves them, before he must be separated from Steve, but he wants to be sure Steve is happy, Steve has attachments, that Steve never forgets that life is a series of lists, put together to weave a lifetime of memories.

His lifetime of memories is the best. He smiles, and recalls the last item on Steve’s bucket list.

_When all is said and done, when you are finished and you are old, when you succumb to age and the vulgarities and embarrassments of age, when Nature is ready for you, I will be as well. Come home to me, then and only then, come home to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the resolution to this story.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com) for updates on my work.
> 
> The information about coffee was written for me by my bestie [rabidchild](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67) in an email to me since I don't drink the stuff and it is like a mystery to me.


End file.
